


Saudade

by stereobone



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-01 10:49:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1043925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stereobone/pseuds/stereobone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just before spring hit, Thor and Loki disappeared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Loki

Something golden stretches in front of him, like the pipes of a giant organ. He can see everything, and at the same time, he sees absolutely nothing at all. There are stars around him, an explosion of stars and as they rush by he starts to forget why he's here. He can't even remember his own name. Nothing makes sense. From far away, or maybe from very close, he hears a voice. Someone is speaking to him, but he can't hear what they're trying to say, and when he opens his mouth, nothing happens. He cannot speak, cannot utter a sound. And so something like terror grips him from the inside and he realizes all at once that a terrible thing is happening, has happened. He just doesn't know what it is.

Thunder crashes and Loke wakes up. It's a violent sort of jerk that sends him right out of the dream and nearly upright, already sweating heavily under the covers. There's another rumble of thunder, but Loke can't hear any rain, can't see any lightning. He feels strange and hyper-aware, terror clinging to him from a dream he can only half-remember. Loke touches his temple with his index and middle finger. His head is pounding.

He gets out of bed and pads to the kitchen, searching the cabinets for aspirin. As he grabs the bottle, something brushes up against his legs, and Loke startles, drops it. The bottle rolls on the floor, pills rattling inside. Loke looks down. It's his cat. It's Alrik. Loke bends to pick the bottle up, scratching behind Alrik's ears as he does so.

"What's going on, hm?" he says to him, listening to the purr from his throat.

Everything feels strange, Loke just doesn't know why. He feels like the world has spun, feels disoriented, and everything else feels unfamiliar. Loke swallows two aspirin with water straight from the sink before picking Alrik up and carrying him to bed with him. Back in bed, staring up at his ceiling, Loke starts to feel more at ease. This is his ceiling, his flat. Alrik is his cat. He curls on his side, listening for more thunder. None comes.

Loke falls back to sleep and does not dream.

\--

Professor Olofsson has him stay after class. Loke already knows why. He leans against the chalkboard, watching as Olofsson packs up his things for the day. Loke is officially his unofficial assistant, because he's the only person in his Quantum Mechanics class who wrote a solid research paper on the Uncertainty Principle—solid enough that he was investigated by the university for cheating—and also because Loke cares more about astronomy than making friends at the university. Space interests him, and not much else, so sometimes after Thursday classes, Loke helps Olofsson grade and they talk about the universe. Loke respects Olofsson because Olofsson respects him.

It's been two months since he woke up to thunder.

"You're a brilliant student," Olofsson says. "Your grasp on astronomical principles is greater than some of my colleagues."

"I know," Loke says.

Olofsson stands straight to face him.

"I worry you're spending too much time on your studies. When was the last time you went out with friends, had fun?"

Loke's eyes flicker to the door. He doesn't want to have this conversation. The friends Olofsson is referring to don't exist. Loke has always had trouble making friends, not for any specific reason, really, he just has. He feels no connection to them. He feels nothing for other people. They bore him.

"I didn't realize socialization was a requirement of the program."

Olofsson laughs. "Socialization shouldn't feel like a requirement. I'm merely suggesting it. I don't want my brightest student to work himself to death."

"I'll go out this weekend," Loke says. A lie, but one he knows Olofsson will believe. "Perhaps I'll have so much fun I'll drop dead."

Olofsson laughs again and claps his shoulder. "You're only human, Loke."

Loke's grin is thin. "What a shame." He grabs his books and slips out into the hallway. Outside, it looks like it may rain. Loke walks faster.

He rides a motorbike because he hates the metro, mostly because he hates crowds. This way, he can weave in and out of traffic, feel the wind rush against his face. It's unusually cold for May in Stockholm, but the cold has never bothered Loke much. He races against the rain that threatens to pour from the clouds above, not bothering to stop for dinner on his way home. Home is just past the city center, a studio flat with a barely working heater, but if Loke gets on the roof, he has a breathtaking view of downtown Stockholm, all blue and yellow lights against the water. He likes to watch the city because it seems less intimidating this high up, tinier, like Loke has more control.

His routine hasn't changed much since he moved to Stockholm. After classes, Loke goes home and eats and studies. Sometimes he goes to the library, or walks around The Old Town and watches the birds scavenge for food that people leave behind. Mostly, he stays home.

Olofsson's words shouldn't bother him, but they do. What does the man care what Loke does with his free time? He thinks about them while eating leftovers, spearing lettuce violently with his fork and taking angry bites. Other students talk about him, he knows it. They think he's strange, and Loke _knows_ it, he just hasn't done anything about it. But the more he thinks on it, the more he realizes that Olofsson is right. Loke can't remember the last time he went out. He can't remember the last time he did something close to fun.

Loke sets his fork down, staring at the wilted lettuce on his plate. Alrik purrs beside him, perched on the countertop. Loke strokes his chin, combing his fingers through the white fur.

He's alone, and he _feels_ it. It sits in his chest, spreading out to his arms and down to his fingertips and making him feel hollow, like someone has scooped out his insides and hidden them somewhere. And at the same time, it's the most wonderful feeling he's ever had. Everything that's missing in him, Loke doesn't miss. It feels easier to not have it at all.

\--

Early morning traffic and Loke waits at a stoplight, listening to the buzz of his motorbike and watching the sun settle in the sky, cradled atop of buildings. He's right by an exit for the metro, and people are bustling in and out, passing in front of him on the crosswalk, some staring at him. It makes Loke itch. There is something about people that Loke just isn't fond of. When he looks around, all he sees is useless bodies, and sometimes that scares him, that he feels that way about his own kind. He takes off his sunglasses to wipe at his eyes.

Loke sees him when he looks up. He's suddenly just there on the crosswalk and Loke is sure he wasn't a minute ago. Nothing about him is special, really, he has the same blond hair and blue eyes as most people in Sweden, but there is still something _about_ him that makes Loke stare. The man notices him staring, even through the crowd of people. He stops in the middle of the road and smiles at him, and it makes Loke's eyes burn, his stomach clench. He looks away.

But now Loke feels like he's being watched. He does want to look, at least one more time, because there's just something about him that's familiar, like a name on the tip of the tongue. So Loke looks. The man has been watching him the whole time, mouth slightly open. It's almost like he's thinking the same thing Loke is, that they _know_ each other. Loke looks away again until the light changes and the cars begin honking. When he looks up, the man is gone.  

Loke never wants to see him again.

\--

Malva is the one who invites him. Loke is tutoring her and another student who's so stupid he hasn't bothered to remember her name in the library when it happens. In between star charts, Malva clears her throat and tucks a strand of yellow hair behind her ear.

"Loke," she says. "I know you're probably really busy with your work, but I'm having a party tonight."

She and her friend are smiling, eager. Loke stares.

"Is this your subtle way of inviting me?"

"Um, I guess so," Malva says.

Girls find him attractive. Loke doesn't know why. It could be the fact that he ignores them completely, and they take it as a challenge to get his attention. He knows he isn't ugly—he takes pride in his appearance. Still, it bothers him. He's been invited out before and always said no, but this time, Olofsson's words ring in his mind.

"Maybe," he says. "If I have time."

"Okay." Malva's eyes brighten, surprised. "Yeah, that's fine. Here's my address."

Loke tucks the paper into his jeans and it feels heavy in his pocket.

"Fine," he says. "Now try and do something useful with these equations."

\--

He gets a beer and hides in a corner. It took Loke two hours to decide to go, and even on the way there, dread crept into his chest and stayed there like a hook. He decides to finish one beer and then leave. Some people try and make small talk with him, but most seem too intimidated, which Loke actually kind of enjoys. Near the end of his first beer, he decides that one more won't hurt.

The flat grows crowded as more people arrive, sweating and dancing and laughing. Loke politely pushes them aside to get to the balcony. This high up, the wind is stronger, takes Loke's breath away for a moment. He shuts the door and leans on the rail of the balcony, eyes closed, listening to the sounds of the city at night, the quiet hum of people moving.

"Hey," someone says. "Aren't you cold?"

Loke spins around and it's him, of course it's him. The man from the crosswalk. He doesn't seem surprised to see Loke, he must have been watching him. Loke pulls his beer closer, and, for the first time in a long time, isn't sure what to say.

"No," he says finally. "I'm not."

The man shrugs. "It's better out here than inside I guess…like a furnace in there."

He moves until he's next to Loke on the rail and mimics his position. Loke eyes the door. He could leave now, if he wanted.

"Thank you for alerting me of the temperature," he says.

The man laughs. "I'm Tor," he says, and extends a hand.

 _I could leave,_ Loke thinks. _I don't owe him anything._ But he shakes his hand anyway. Tor is extremely tall, nearly all muscle, hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. They shake hands for too long, Loke being the one who pulls away.

"This is funny, isn't it?" Tor says.

Loke frowns. "Is it?"

"Well I saw you, earlier." Tor motions in front of him with a hand. "You were riding a motorbike. You should wear a helmet, you know."

"I'll take that into consideration," Loke says.

Tor laughs, and Loke looks at him through his lashes, frowning.

"Sorry," he says. "It's just funny. I thought I'd never see you again, but here you are."

A raindrop hits Loke's nose and he flinches. He had thought much the same thing, and now that he's seen Tor again, he isn't sure what he wants to do more: stay there or leave. He decides he wants to leave. He needs to.

"I was actually just heading out."

More raindrops hit them.

"Oh," Tor says, and sounds honestly dejected about it. "Well—"

It starts to pour from nowhere, and they both run for the door. Loke starts heading for the front door as soon as he's inside. His head is pounding again, maybe from the beer. He feels dizzy.

"Are you okay to drive?" Tor says behind him, and Loke just gives him a suffering look.

He grabs his jacket from the pile at the front door, disappointed and relieved all at once to see that Tor has followed him. He takes Loke's empty beer bottle for him and holds it like a token, watching as Loke pulls his jacket on.

"It's pouring," he says, and when Loke doesn't answer he says, "What's your name?"

Loki honestly considers not answering, but decides it will do no harm. "Loke."

Tor repeats it once, and then starts to say something, but Loke cuts him off.

"Goodbye, Tor," he says, and opens the front door.

\--

He stands in the hallway of the bottom floor and waits for the rain to stop. When it finally slows to a drizzle, Loke bolts outside, pulling down the sleeve of his jacket to wipe the seat of his bike down. He feels panicked. He knows it's because of Tor, he just doesn't know why. He doesn't understand, and he doesn't want to try. Loke climbs onto his bike and turns the ignition.

The engine sputters.

"Shit. _Shit._ "

Loke tries again. The engine sputters once more, and the sound is unmistakable—he's gotten water in it. The engine will need to dry out before he can even think of starting it. Loke climbs off the bike and then kicks it once, hands curled into fists. It's an old bike. He should have expected it.

"Water in the engine?"

Loke sneers at the voice. "How did you—"

"I'm a mechanic," Tor says.

He steps out of the building and pulls his hood up against the drizzle, walking over to Loke's bike.

"I was afraid that would happen when it started pouring." He bends down at examines the bike, even tries the ignition again. "It needs to dry out."

"I know," Loke says.

Tor stands and wipes his hands against his jeans, hood threatening to fall off. Loke shifts his weight, uneasy, but not for the reasons he usually is.

"I can give you a ride to your flat," Tor says. "I have a car."

"How impressive," says Loke. "But he metro isn't far."

"With your bike?" Tor touches one of the handlebars. "It's too heavy."

Loke knows this, but he still bristles at Tor pointing it out. By now, his aversion to him is entirely self-created. There's nothing about Tor that seems threatening or fake. Loke doesn't even feel annoyed by his presence, just strange. A kind of disassociation hovers around him.

"I'm not trying to kidnap you," Tor says, and then smiles.

Loke snorts. "As if you could."

This is his way of agreeing to the ride.

\--

The rain starts again on the drive to Loke's flat. Tor's car is immaculately clean, except for the empty energy drink cans in the cup holders. The windshield wipers drag against the window, smearing rain and causing the brake lights in front of them to look like red streaks of blood on the road. Tor drives with his seat reclined, making him seem more at ease as he follows Loke's directions. They make small talk, but it isn't painful.

"So you have a class with Malva?"

"Something like that." Loke flicks lint from his jeans. "What's your excuse?"

Tor shrugs. "She works next door to my shop. We talk sometimes."

Loke pictures them talking and frowns. He directs Tor to turn onto the next street, and then pull to the end.

"This is me," Loke says, pointing.

Tor parks the car and gets Loke's bike from the trunk without being asked to. His hair is still wet from the rain, but somehow it shines under the streetlights, illuminated. He hands the motorbike over to Loke and their fingers nearly brush when Loke grabs the handlebars. His head is still pounding.

"If you're still having problems with it tomorrow…" Tor digs into his pocket and pulls out a business card. "Here's where my shop is. You can bring it by."

"I'm sure it will be fine," Loke says, but takes the card.

"Well I hope you come by anyway," Tor says, in a much softer tone.

It catches Loke so off guard he nearly drops the card. He manages to tuck it into his wallet, and then stares just past Tor's shoulders, at the traffic in the distance.

"Maybe," he says finally. "I'm very busy, you know."

Tor smiles again and says goodbye, hitting hard on the _K_ in Loke's name, almost like a click. He says nothing in return, just walks his bike onto the sidewalk.

\--

He doesn't go to Tor's shop. He puts Tor's card on his nightstand and is very aware of it being there, but he refuses to touch it. Alrik meows loudly, sensing something. Loke feeds him to shut him up. By Saturday afternoon, the engine has dried and Loke has no trouble starting it up. He's actually a little disappointed by it.

Monday he makes himself forget about it, going to class as usual and not thinking about it, not thinking about Tor, or the way Tor watched him like he was something special.

It becomes a distraction. Loke can barely concentrate on his studies. He doesn't even bother to pretend to listen to people when they stop him in the hallways, just walks past them. He lays awake in bed at night and watches the ceiling, imagining the rain falling again. He curses the world and doesn't sleep.

"I didn't know that you knew Tor," Malva says in class.

Loke doesn't remember her coming to sit next to him, and he jumps at her voice. The mention of Tor's name makes his stomach flutter.

"I don't know him," he says. "Shouldn't you be finishing your equations?"

Malva smiles like she knows a secret and pulls out her notes to show Loke that she's finished. The scribbling beside her work is his. He doesn't even remember helping her.

"What planet are you even on right now?" she asks him.

"The planet where I'm not failing this class." Loke pushes her notes back to her. "Go show Olofsson."

By the weekend, Loke's resolve breaks. It's pure curiosity that brings him into Tor's shop. Tor is like a tumor in his brain, growing and becoming increasingly more problematic. Loke can't fucking help it when he pulls into the shop. He spends hours trying to think of a reason why he'd need to go by the shop but finds none. His bike is working perfectly. Eventually, he just decides to ride by, but ends up pulling in.

Tor sees him as soon as he cuts the engine, and his lips pull back into a wide smile.

"Loke." He says it with such warmth in his voice that Loke feels embarrassed for him. "It's nice to see you again."

Loke clears his throat. "There's a problem with my bike."

"Oh?"

"It's…running oddly," Loke says.

Tor walks over to the bike and examines it. "How so?"

"I don't know, I'm not a mechanic." Loke crosses his arms, then uncrosses them. "I was hoping you could tell me."

Tor's smile grows larger.

"Sure," he says.

Loke sits in the tiny lobby with his book while Tor looks his bike over. If he turns his head, he can see Tor working through the window, and he does so occasionally, watching the oil smeared on Tor's arms and neck.

Fifteen minutes later, Tor comes over, wiping his hands clean on a rag.

"Hi," he says, and cocks his head. "What are you reading?

"It's the biography of Anders Celsius." He pulls the book close to his chest like he needs to protect it.

Tor blinks and says, "Who's that?" Then he sits down, flipping a chair around so he can lean against the back, thick arms crossed over top of it.

"He was an astronomer," Loke says.

"Are you an astronomer, too?"

He looks impressed by the idea of it, so Loke says yes, because it's mostly true, and he wants Tor to be impressed by him.   

"That makes sense, you look smart." Tor takes his hat off to smooth his hair back before placing it back on again, uncaring of his grimy fingers. "I figured out what's wrong with your bike, by the way."

Loke leans close, attentive. "Did you now?"

"A loose coil," Tor says. "I fixed it up for you. Don't worry, it's free of charge."

Loke doesn't know whether to believe him or not, but he certainly isn't going to say anything about it, considering there hadn't been anything wrong with it to begin with, or so he thought.

"Thank you," he says, and means it.

He stands up, and Tor stands with him, so fast he nearly topples the chair over. There's silence as Loke places his book into his bag, Tor watching him carefully. Loke knows he wants to say something, so he waits, patient, taking his time to put his things together.

"Are you busy tonight?" Tor asks, and Loke forces himself not to smile.

"That all depends."

Tor grins, braver. "I want to take you out for a drink."

His hands are folded behind his back, innocent, but his face speaks to something else. Loke likes seeing him like this—nervous and daring all at once.

"You say it like I'll agree."

"Because I know you will," Tor says.

Loke scoffs. "Your cockiness is not an attractive feature, Tor."

"Some say it is," he says, and Loke refuses to admit that might be true.

In the end, they exchange numbers.

Tor uses too many emoticons in his texts and it's annoying, but Loke still agrees to go for a drink with him. Tor picks him up at eight and Loke feels like it shouldn't be this easy, but it is. It really is.

They go to a bar Loke has never heard of and sit at a table near the back. The area is cozy but the TV above them is loud. A woman on the news keeps going on and on about the avengers, the avengers. They're missing someone, or looking for someone, Loke doesn't know because the channel changes to sports.

He lets himself drink, but not too much. He wants to remain in control, he feels like he has to. Tor has an easy smile and that makes it easy to get lost in. Loke knows it shouldn't be this way, but he doesn't know why.

"You were watching me, the first day I saw you." Tor's fingers trace the rim of his glass. "You looked surprised."

"You were watching me," Loke says. "I simply watched back."

"Why?"

"I wanted to know who was stupid enough to stop in the middle of the road."

Tor laughs. "You're a liar."

Loke sips his drink.

"I thought I knew you," he says. "Or I thought…I thought I'd seen you somewhere before."

"Me too," Tor says, and Loke's spine crawls.

It should be a warning sign, but he doesn't know for what. The problem is he feels so comfortable. He can't ever remember feeling this comfortable before. The loneliness in his chest doesn't seem so heavy when he's around Tor, and that both scares and excites him.

People occasionally stop by to talk to Tor. They slap his shoulder, friendly with him, and Loke is quietly jealous. He wants them to notice him, too. By his third drink, Loke forgets not to watch Tor with such an open expression of curiosity.

"But you don't know me," Loke says. "I don't know you. I'd never seen you before."

"You know me now." Tor smiles and leans back. "So what do you think?"

His openness and the alcohol make Loke blush.

"I think you're an idiot," he says.

Tor laughs loudly.

They take their time after that, drinking slower, letting the ice in their drinks melt and water down the liquor. The talk is easy, and Tor doesn't seem to mind that sometimes Loke is short with him, and Loke doesn't mind when Tor boasts a bit too much about his auto work. He doesn't realize that the bar has closed until the manager politely asks them to leave.

Tor stretches when they step outside, watches Loke from the corner of his eye as they walk to his car. Once they're in, he asks Loke if he should take him home.

Loke is very tempted to say no. But he doesn't. Tor drives him home, and idling outside his flat, he smiles openly at Loke.

"I can't tell if you like me or not," he says.

"That's the point," Loke says, but his voice is not cruel.

"So I'll see you again?"

Tor doesn't stop the eagerness from his voice, and Loke is almost a little jealous, that it all seems so easy for him. He shrugs.

"You just might," he says, and gets out.

\--

He does see Tor again though, only three days later. It takes a good number of texts, but Loke agrees to let Tor take him to dinner. Truth be told, he's relieved to see him again. Loke hadn't expected that, but he is. Tor feels like breathing in clean air, the only real thing in the whole city that Loke can see. Tor is in his thoughts an alarming amount, and that both worries and excites him.

The next week, they go out again. And then again. Each time, Tor invites him back to his flat, but Loke always refuses. He can keep Tor at a somewhat safe distance this way, and feels like he has more control. By the sixth date, Loke's resolve is nearly gone. When Tor hovers next to him, the hair on his arms stands on end and his stomach tingles. He wants, and he can't remember the last time he did. Loke plans to let Tor take him back his flat, but when they leave the bar that night and climb into his car, Tor doesn't offer. Loke has a very hard time not being upset.

"No invite?" he says, casual. "I didn't take you for someone who gave up so easily."

Tor gives his steering wheel a nervous tap. "I was afraid you would say no again."

"Perhaps you should still ask."

"Do you want to come back to mine?" Tor says, after a moment of hesitation.

"No," Loke says, simply because he can.

Tor looks at him so openly shocked that Loke can only laugh.

"Yes, you fool," he says. "The answer is yes."

\--

Loke can't remember dreaming since the night he woke up in the storm. Sometimes in the mornings, he sits in bed and tries to force the memories of a dream back, but nothing comes. Nothing ever comes.

They have another drink in Tor's flat. It's the same size as Loke's, a little messier, and there's no cat. Tor opens the blinds of his balcony and stares out into the city like he's watching for something before turning around.

"Planning to jump?" Loke says.

Tor laughs but then goes quiet, glancing out the balcony doors again. Silence stretches between them. Tor looks like he's struggling for the right words, switching his drink between his right and left hand. Loke listens as the heat clicks on, a hum entering the flat.

"No," Tor says. "Sometimes I just get this weird feeling. I've lived in Stockholm nearly all my life but…"

He trails off and Loke steps toward him, anxious for him to continue.

"You feel what?"

"I feel like I don't belong here." Tor pauses. "Or anywhere. I'm not sure."

Tor looks at him, embarrassed. He thinks Loke doesn't know what he means. He knows exactly what Tor means.

Tor lets out a soft laugh.

"It's stupid, I know—"

"No," Loke says, and kisses him.

Tor drops his glass and grabs Loke's shoulders, pulls him closer. His mouth is warm, very warm, and Loke hadn't realized how cold he felt until he kissed him.

"I've been waiting for this," Tor says when they break for air.

"I know," says Loke.

Tor kisses him, this time. They stumble, blind, feeling for furniture with their hands and bumping into walls. Loke lets Tor lead until they get to the bed, then pushes Tor down onto it, crawling over him. The wants seems to hit all at once, like a fever. Loke presses his body to Tor's and whole of him pulses underneath his body. He is shaking for it, unsteady fingers. He reaches for the button on Tor's jeans, but Tor holds his hands steady and shakes his head. Loke has a hard time not being offended by this, and his face must show it, because Tor kisses the corner of his mouth in apology.

"Not yet," he says.

"Don't tell me you're being honorable."

Loke shifts, uncomfortable with arousal. He wants to feel their skin together, wants the thickness of Tor around him, in him.

"Just lay with me for a while," Tor says. "Just for a while."

He strokes Loke's palm with his thumb and Loke feels he has no choice. Tor makes it sound so inviting, safe. He slowly lets the tension drift from his body, shifting so he's half on top of Tor, one leg draped over him. Tor holds his hands still, pressed against his chest as if in prayer. To be this close to someone, it should be uncomfortable. It always has been, Tor shouldn't be an exception, but he is. Somehow he is familiar, an anchor. Loke shuts his eyes. He's exhausted suddenly, body heavy. Tor is breathing steadily next to him.

Loke doesn't dream, but this time he doesn't mind.

\--

He wakes to the sun creeping in through the blinds. It's still early morning. Loke finds Tor's bathroom and relieves himself before catching his reflection in the mirror. He looks less angular somehow, maybe because he feels so well rested. Loke walks from the bathroom and watches Tor on the bed, snoring and limp limbed. He doesn't move for a long time, just watches him, cataloguing the different parts of his body, trying to figure him out. Tor isn't like an equation, though. Loke can't fucking solve him.

"What's wrong?" Tor cracks open one eye.

"Nothing."

And it's true. There is nothing wrong—that's what makes Loke wary.

"Your face says otherwise."

"My face says nothing."

"You're worrying about things that don't exist," Tor says, and then reaches a hand out and beckons to him. "Come here."

Loke hovers by the door for a moment, and then climbs back onto the bed and into Tor's arms, letting them envelope him.

"Nothing is wrong," he says, and believes it.  

\--

The next week brings about so much work Loke doesn't see Tor for days. Despite that, everyone seems to notice the lightness in his step, but only Olofsson says something about it. He nudges Loke with his shoulder.

"Who is she?" he says.

For a moment, Loke doesn't know what he's referring to. Then he scowls.

"You nosy old man," he says. "Don't be ridiculous."

"That's ridiculous?"

"Yes," Loke says, and buries himself in a book.

That night, he can't find sleep. He tosses and turns in bed for hours, trying to shut his mind off, but it just won't. Tor calms him, somehow, even though he can be hotheaded himself, stubborn to the point where Loke wants to slug him. It's amazing how well they seem to balance one another, and at the same time feel so opposite. And Tor is so damn patient with him. In some ways, Loke feels like he's taking advantage of him, but he's too selfish to care. He doesn't want to let Tor go. He wants him, and he wants all of him, and he wants it for himself.

The clock tells him it's near three in the morning, but Loke grabs for his phone anyway.

Tor picks up on the fourth ring, voice heavy with sleep.

"Loke?"

"I'm coming over."

"Is something wrong?" Tor's voice is suddenly very awake. "You sound—"

"I'll be there in twenty-minutes," Loke says, and then hangs up.

\--

Tor is waiting for him in the hallway, door propped open. He looks concerned, which is understandable, given Loke called him so late and without any explanation. Loke almost wishes he would look annoyed. Tor lets Loke in without a word, following him as Loke lets the feel of Tor's flat settle over him once more. Exhaustion washes over him immediately.

"I couldn't sleep," he says, answering Tor's question without waiting to hear it.

He turns and sees that Tor is smiling at him, like this is relieving to him somehow. Maybe he thought Loke was going to call it all off. But he didn't want him to. That thought makes Loke's chest swell a bit. He isn't the only one drowning in this. The power that comes with that, the knowledge that someone wants you, it's dizzying. Loke steps toward Tor and isn't sure he's walking straight and doesn't care. He kisses Tor, open-mouthed and full of intent. Tor's shirt bugs him, so he tugs on it, and then Tor steps back some to he can pull it over his head.

Loke presses his hands flat against Tor's chest. The muscle there is hard and unyielding, but the skin is soft. He feels skinny compared to Tor, pale skinned and boney fingered. Still, he wants to dig those fingers into Tor's skin and watch it turn red. He wants Tor to need him so much it hurts.

"Do you want me?" he says.

Tor inhales.

"You know that I do."

"Show me."

The kiss is violent. Tor's mouth is all consuming and hot, tongue heavy. He pulls Loke against him and then, when that isn't enough, picks Loke up by the backs of his thighs. Loke makes a startled noise into his mouth, muffled but clear. On the bed, Tor breaks his zipper, and Loke cannot even bring himself to be annoyed by it. Tor is pulls his pants down, briefs and all. His eyes seem glassy, out of control, and Loke is very hard. He fists his own erection slowly, watching Tor with an expression that is surely nothing but predatory. Tor crawls over him, taking his time to kiss every part of Loke, from his hipbones to his sternum. He bites at Loke's jawline and then soothes over it with a kiss, mouth hot everywhere it touches. Loke squirms. His whole body aches and he loves it.

Once they're both naked, Loke somehow feels smaller. Tor is all muscle, smile broad. It's like he knows everything there is to know about Loke. The vulnerability of it all is disconcerting, but Loke forces himself to ignore it. He wants this. He's sure of that more than anything. Tor coaxes one of his legs up and rests the crook of the knee over his shoulder.

"I thought about this all week," he says, voice soft like he's embarrassed to admit it.

"Stop thinking," Loke says, though he's trembling for it. "Just do."

Tor takes him apart gently. He fingers Loke like it's an art, free hand rubbing circles on his stomach. Once he gets a third in, Loke has to bite down hard on his lips, otherwise he feels like he may crawl right out of his skin. Tor is watching him like he's never known anything better, like he wants to keep him just like this forever, and that possessiveness about him makes Loke even harder, his chest tighter. He might laugh if his heart wasn't caught in his throat. All he can do is choke on syllables.

"Come here," he manages, and Tor understands exactly what he means.

Tor fucks into him and Loke just watches his face, the way his brows knit together and his mouth drops open. He reaches up and grips Tor's shoulders, digging his nails into the skin to leave red marks. The more Tor presses in, the more Loke feels his body stretch and open, an ache that is unfamiliar but welcoming. He breathes heavy and Tor starts moving his hips, getting used to the sensation of him. They lose control of themselves fairly quickly. It becomes something half desperate, bodies sweating and rocking together like machines. Tor watches him like he's worth being watched, like he could ignore everything else for him.

"I like you very much like this," he says, voice rough and affectionate all at once.

Loke's response is to bare his neck for Tor to mark, fingers reaching up to tangle in Tor's hair. He feels alive like this, full and alive and happy in a way he hasn't known before.

"Loke," Tor says, gasping. "God, I want—"

"I know." Loke brings their mouths together. "I know."

The ache of not belonging still sits in his chest, but it's easier to ignore now. Loke wants to ignore it. If he is lost, then so is Tor. They are lost together.

\--

New York City and it's barely midnight. Steve takes the elevator up to Tony's penthouse, tapping his fingers against his pant's leg. He's barely slept the past seventy-two hours, but even when he does sleep, it doesn't feel right. Nothing's felt right since four months ago. The elevator doors open up to Tony and Bruce sitting on the couch looking morose as hell. Steve frowns and steps out.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing," Bruce says.

Bruce is actually drinking, a sign that he's just as stressed as the rest of them. Steve almost wishes alcohol would work on him. He sits next to them on the couch, heavy-hearted. He would say they've hit a dead end, but they would have needed a lead to begin with. There's been nothing. It's like he never existed in the first place.

"He's been missing almost four months," Tony says. "I'm not saying we give up. I'm just saying, what if he's really—"

"Don't say it. Don't even think it." Steve runs a hand through his hair. "We just have to keep looking."

They all sit quiet for the rest of the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not following the Marvel timeline because that thing is crazy right now but also I started this fic like six months ago anyway. Yup. A lot is happening. Stay tuned?
> 
> Next part should be up soonish.


	2. Thor

He likes Stockholm in the fall. He likes the early golden sunsets. After the summer, the city begins to slow some, and the days become shorter and shorter. Warm colors shade the parks and buildings. The electric rush from summer disappears, and everything is more at ease. People move slower. There is no need to go so fast anymore. Tor watches Loke in the kitchen, putting away the dishes from their dinner. Tor is on the couch, Alrik on his lap. The cat has taken a serious liking to him, and it's obvious that Loke is jealous about it. He hits two plates together to try and scare Alrik off Tor's lap, but it doesn't work.

They've been living together for almost three months.

During the summer, it became obvious that Loke's flat was barely ever occupied anymore. He spent most nights with Tor, always rushing back to his flat to feed Alrik or grab books. One night after sex, Tor made the suggestion. They were lying naked on the bed together, Tor tracing patterns into the skin of Loke's back. When he said it, Loke went stiff, and then rolled over so that he could face Tor. His face didn't give much away, it rarely did. Tor had an awful time trying to read him.

"You're not serious," Loke said.

"Of course I am."

"But we've only…" Loke trailed off, maybe trying to think of a reason why they shouldn't. There wasn't one as far as Tor was concerned. Loke was already at Tor's flat more often than his own, and Tor liked the idea of waking up to Loke every morning, of having the privilege of seeing Loke when he was most vulnerable. He tended to occupy Tor's thoughts more than anything else, and Tor honestly didn't mind. He'd been on Tor's mind since the moment he saw him at the intersection back in May. Tor saw him first. He'd been crossing the street to grab coffee at the shop across from his work when he happened to glance over and see Loke on his motorbike. He was so struck by him that he just stopped in the middle of the crosswalk. Tor knew him, or so he thought. Either way, he'd never seen anyone like him—endless legs, skin like snow and hair that fell neat around his shoulders. Tor spent the next week hoping to see him again, and when he did, that was it. He needed him.

"Move in with me," he said again.

Loke's silence was shorter.

"I suppose it would be more convenient," he said.

Tor smiled at him from across the pillows and nodded silently. This was how Loke said yes, never direct.

"Very convenient," Tor said.

Loke walks to the couch and shoos Alrik away. The cat jumps from Tor's lap and bounds over the top of the couch, skittering into the bathroom.

"That was mean," Tor says. "He was comfy."

"He was in my spot."

Loke climbs onto Tor's lap, legs stretched out, and buries his face in Tor's neck. There's a comedy show playing on TV that Tor can't remember the name of. He listens to the voices of the actors, dubbed over in Swedish, and the laugh track that plays behind them before he slips a hand under Loke's shirt to trace his spine.  

They talk about leaving Sweden sometimes. The ideas are more fantasies—Loke still needs to graduate, and Tor has his shop—but they've made a list of places they might go. Tor likes Spain, but Loke says he wants to stay north, maybe Norway. They add Japan to the list, too. Stockholm becomes more familiar to them everyday, but still somehow foreign, like they're looking at it through tinted glass.

"Malva invited us over for a party next weekend." Tor runs his fingers over the knobs of Loke's spine. "Should I tell her we're going?"

Loke shifts against him. "We'll never be rid of her, will we?"

"She's our friend," Tor says.

He doesn't understand a lot of things about Loke. For Tor, making friends is easy. He's outgoing, personable, always willing to lend a hand. He just genuinely enjoys other people. For Loke, it seems a lot more difficult, nearly impossible. Sometimes he thinks Loke is angry at him for it, for being able to connect to people so easily. As far as he knows, Loke doesn't have any friends at all.

"Tell her yes, then," Loke says.

He grabs the remote and shuts the TV off. Tor squeezes his hip.

"You just want to keep me for yourself," he says.

Loke bites his neck and Tor laughs.

\--

Days that Loke doesn't have class, he hangs at the shop and watches Tor work. He pretends he's doing homework, but Tor knows better. He also knows Loke would never admit that he likes watching Tor get his hands dirty. This, like so many other things, is a routine they've fallen into without even realizing. It's just so easy, and it feels like how it should have always been.

Tor's coworkers are intimidated by Loke—his intelligence, his demeanor, his wit—but they know what he means to Tor, and so they treat him like a brother at times. Especially Bjorn. Every time he sees Loke, he makes it a point to ask him if he's studying Astrology, and then asks for his horoscope. Consequently, Loke hides his tools any chance he gets.

"Hey, have you guys seen my ratchet set?"

Tor glances at Loke, who looks innocent as you please, and knows immediately that he took it. Loke has some weird craving for mischief, there's no other word for it. He makes eye contact with Tor and winks. These moments, Tor feels so happy he thinks his chest might just burst open. Even Loke seems happy, Loke who is never content with anything. These are moments Tor wants to relive for the rest of his days.

"Seriously," Bjorn says. "Loke, did you hide my stuff again?"

Tor starts laughing, and then Loke follows with his own laughter, barely stifled behind his palm.

"Your boyfriend is an asshole," Bjorn says, not really meaning it.

They laugh harder.

But these moments are fleeting—Tor knows that. He knows that when he looks over later and sees Loke staring off like he sometimes does, looking for all the world like he is completely lost, has no idea how he got here. These moments exist more than any other, and Tor wishes desperately that they didn't.

\--

It's difficult not to get caught up Johannes once they start talking. Johannes is an amateur footballer with a clunker of a car that Tor is always fixing. They get along well, really well—Tor would go as far as to consider him his best friend. Before he met Loke, Tor would sometimes join in for some of Johannes' matches, because as Johannes puts it, he's built like a brick shithouse. 

"You're just so damn tall," he says. "And your arms should be illegal."

Tor laughs so hard his cheeks hurt. They clink their beer bottles together and take a drink. Johannes is usually at Malva's parties, but Tor hasn't gone in a while. He knows Loke doesn't like them, and he doesn't seem too fond of Johannes. It's almost as if he's jealous. Tor knows better than to bring it up, though.

Loke isn't fond of people in general. Tor likes the company of other people—Loke is content without it. Loke seems more content with his company, and his alone. Tor glances across the room and sees Loke standing alone in the kitchen, drinking his beer like it's poison. He was talking to Malva earlier, trying to trick her into changing major, but must have shaken her off, or actually convinced her. It worries Tor that Loke doesn't like people or parties. He doesn't believe that Loke hates people, even though he tells Tor that often. It's just hard for him to connect. Tor motions at Johannes and they go over to Loke.

"Ah," Loke says, draining the last of beer. "My two favorite people."

"I was just telling Johannes that you'll be graduating in the spring," Tor says, trying to ease him into conversation.

"It's true." Loke grabs another beer from the fridge. "With honors."

"That's great, man," Johannes says.

But the conversation ends up drifting, and soon Loke is silent again. He hates the flat lines of small talk. Tor knows because he feels it too, it's just easier for him to get involved. Sometimes he thinks Loke doesn't even try and it angers him. It's like he wants to avoid people entirely. When Johannes isn't looking, he watches him with hard eyes.

Later in the night, Johannes excuses himself to the bathroom and Tor slides next to Loke, leaning so he can whisper into the shell of his ear.

"You want to leave," he says, and can't help that his voice comes out half-annoyed.

Loke doesn't even bother lying to him.

The ride home is silent. Tor watches him from the side but Loke isn't looking at him, he's staring at his hands instead, folded in his lap. He can tell Loke is thinking about something, he just doesn't know what. The air in the car feels staler. Once they get upstairs to their flat, Loke's quiet makes Tor quiet as well. He's almost positive Loke won't say anything to the rest of the night, so when he does speak, Tor jumps.

"And how is our dear Johannes?"

His voice is cold and steely. Thor drops his keys on the counter.

"He's fine. Are you okay?"

Loke's face makes it obvious that he isn't, and Tor doesn't understand, the way Loke questions this at times, the way he questions them. It's as if he can't see how much he's got Tor under his spell.

"I'm drunk," Loke says. "I'm wonderful."

"Loke."

Tor pours him a glass of water from the tap. He tries to hand it to Loke, but he bypasses Tor's outstretched hand and curls his fingers around his bicep.

"I know you, Tor," he says.

Tor isn't sure what he's saying now or how to answer, so he doesn't. Loke squeezes the muscle gently.

"He doesn't know you like I do, you know that, right?"

Tor sets the glass of water down, replaying Loke's words in his head. Then he realizes whom he's talking about. Tor isn't a fool, not entirely. He knows that Loke can be manipulative, knows that he rarely ever says exactly what he's thinking or feeling. Tor has to force it out of him and it's like pulling teeth.

"You're jealous," he says.

"Don't be stupid," Loke says, but when he looks at Tor, his eyes give him away entirely.

Loke looks down and Tor steps pulls him closer, afraid that Loke is going to do something rash, say something rash. 

"You drive me crazy sometimes," Tor says.

Loke laughs. "Only sometimes?"

Tor runs his tongue over his teeth. His mouth is dry. "You care about me," he says.

"Yes," Loke says, soft. "Though I don't know why, because you are the biggest idiot I've—"

Tor grabs Loke's face in his hands.

"I love you," he says.

He kisses Loke before he can respond. He pushes, he doesn't give Loke space to try and move away or speak. He's afraid Loke won't say it back, so he won't let him say anything at all. He just needs to show Loke that he isn't going anywhere. Loke is so talented with words, but other people's words seem to hold little meaning for him, so Tor uses action instead. He directs Loke where he wants him, pulling him down onto the bed with him and removing his shirt. 

Tor rolls him so he's on his stomach and Loke goes still but doesn't ask him to stop, so Tor strips him naked. He cups the back of Loke's neck and then slowly drags his hand down his back, tracing him, moving over the curve of his ass and then going further still. Tor stops at his ankle and then leans in to kiss the bone there.

"Tor—"

"Shh. Don't move."

Loke obeys him. He doesn't turn around, but his whole body is trembling. It isn't until Tor spreads him open that Loke pushes up to his hands and knees, and then Tor puts his mouth on him. He licks the crease of Loke's ass and then pushes his tongue in, swirls it around Loke's hole. When he pulls away, Loke is still shaking. Tor pushes him so that he rolls onto his back and takes his cock into his mouth.

He presses his thumbs hard into Loke's hipbones. He wants to Loke to feel him everywhere, to know exactly where he is and what he's doing. Tor moves his hands down, lifts Loke's leg up so he can slip a finger into him. Loke chokes.

"Come on," he says. "Come on, please."

Tor pushes, he keeps pushing until Loke is absolutely desperate for it. He pulls out of him and moves up so their cocks slide together, wet and heavy.

"I'm not going to leave you," he says. "I'm not going anywhere without you. You're mine, you're with _me_."

Loke whines. "Say that again."

And Tor does. He says it like a chant, _mine, mine,_ until Loke comes, whole body trembling. He lets Loke take because he wants him to. He needs him to. Loke wraps his hand around Tor's cock, still breathing heavy, and jerks it once.

"Inside of me," he says.

Tor hips stutter. "But you've already—"

"I don't care," Loke says.

He wraps his legs around Tor's waist and pushes against him, encouraging him. Tor fucks him slowly, Loke loose from the alcohol and his finger. He knows it won't take him long, not when Loke is watching him with his eyes glazed over. He doesn't know how Loke does these things to him. He just does, he has since the first moment Tor met him, and he probably always will.

"Loke," he says. "Fuck, _Loke_."

Loke says his name like it's been squeezed from his lungs, nails dragging down his back and it doesn't take long at all for Tor to spill inside of him, arms shaking.

Once they've gotten their breath back, Tor presses his forehead to Loke's.

"I want you to be happy," he says.

"I am—but not with them."

They watch each other. Tor can hear Alrik move from the kitchen to the couch, the light thump of his paws. He traces the bone of Loke's collar, and the skin feels like it's burning under his touch. Loke grabs his hand, brings it to his mouth so he can kiss it.

"We don't belong here," he says.

Tor understands what he means immediately, but he wants them to belong here. Sweden is as good as anywhere, as far as Tor is concerned. If they belong nowhere, then home can be anywhere.

"Loke—"

"Tor." Loke squeezes his hand and he levels him with a look. "We don't."

Tor squeezes back. "Then where do we belong?"

Loke doesn't answer him.

\--

It's like this, most days: Tor wakes up to the smell of coffee, Loke already awake and ready to go. Sometimes Loke lets him sleep in, other times he sits on him until he agrees to get up. They shower together unless they're running late because they can't help themselves. They'll fuck right there, bodies dripping wet and pink with steam. They can't keep their hands off each other. And then Tor will go to work, and if Loke has a class, he'll go there, and the day drags and seems gray and terrible. Tor is aware of how…dependent they are with one another. He's aware and he doesn't care at all. Loke is usually home before him, perched on the countertop when Tor comes in, features sharp under the lights of the flat. He'll kiss Tor, touch his greased hands and then tell him that he smells awful. They fuck often, like they're making up for lost time, and when they can be, they are quiet together. They listen to that quiet and enjoy it, like it had always been so loud before.

Other days, they go into the heart of Stockholm together, fingers linked, bodies close. Loke takes Tor to films or museums and Tor takes Loke to parks and bars and there is always something to discover together. They read each other like open books. Body language, expressions. They orbit around one another like planets, perfectly aligned.

And some days they are fighting, pulling their hair out and unable to stand the sight of each other. It's Loke snapping over something and Tor not understanding, and sometimes the fighting turns physical until they are tangled heaps on the floor, laughing, unable to remember what they were fighting about in the first place. And that leads to kissing, which leads to sex, which leads to Loke tracing circles around Tor's nipples, humming quietly, hair stuck to his face.

It is all these days that Tor is grateful for.

\--

They walk the stairs of the building together, Tor hefting six bags of groceries. Loke follows behind with the rest. Tor isn't allowed to go food shopping by himself. According to Loke, he buys junk and never remembers cat food, so Loke always goes with him, or sometimes just takes Tor's car and goes by himself. He barely rides his motorbike anymore. Tor is trying to convince him to sell it. He's also trying to convince Loke to go somewhere for rest the winter.

"We should go somewhere warm," Tor says.

He steps aside so Loke can get the keys to the flat out of his pocket.

"Not Spain." Loke kicks the door open. "Why do you like Spain so much?"

"I like Spanish food," Tor says, and pouts. "Fine, where would you go?"

"Anywhere they didn't have Spanish food." Loke grins at him. "Maybe Ireland."

Tor rolls his eyes. He's far less tolerant of the cold than Loke, and he points that out when they get into the kitchen.

"You could sleep naked in the snow and be fine," he says. "I need warmth."

"You give off enough body heat to warm the entire building." Loke squeezes his bicep. "How could you possibly ever be cold?"

Tor doesn't really have an answer, so he just mocks Loke's words, and Loke shoves him with his hip.

They start putting groceries away, leaving the jam out to make sandwiches. Another thing Loke doesn't let Tor do by himself is make food. He burns anything that needs to be cooked, and never seems to be able to craft a sandwich without spilling condiments everywhere. He's somewhat of a hazard in his own flat, he will admit. Tor finishes putting the groceries away and hands Loke the bread.

"What about Brazil?"

"I loathe the Brazilians," Loke says, and pulls out four slices.

"You've never even met one."

Tor tries to open the jam, but the lid won't budge. He grunts.

"Give me that," Loke says.

He puts the bread down and grabs the jar. He twists but nothing happens.

"It's stuck," Tor says. "Run it under hot water."

"Hold on—" Loke grunts and twists again, knuckles going white. "It's almost—"

He slams the jar down, and it explodes.

\--

"Fuck," Tor is saying. "Fuck!"

Loke is on the floor, hand covered in jam and Tor doesn't know what just happened.

"Are you okay? Loke, are you okay?"

He stares at Loke's hand. It seems normal now, but it wasn't before. Something happened. It looked like green electricity around his hand, curled up his wrist. He made the jar explode. Tor looks up. Jam is everywhere—the counter, the ceiling. Alrik is licking some up off the floor. Tor kneels down next to Loke and starts wiping his hand with a towel. He's shaking.

"Did you see that?" Loke says.

He doesn't sound scared, more enraptured. Tor pauses.

"…Yeah. You're lucky you didn't slice your hand open."

"Forget my hand, Tor. Did you see the lightning?"

Tor slows in his movements, focusing on Loke's hand before shaking his head.

"We imagined it."

"Both of us?"

"I don't know," Tor says. "Are you sure you're okay? You're not bleeding…"

"I'm fine." Loke flexes his fingers. "I'm fine."

He doesn't seem hurt at all, just stunned, confused. They clean the broken glass and jam, glancing at one another often like they'll find some kind of explanation for what happened. Loke keeps staring at his hand, and that worries Tor. He knows what he saw. Loke did something, he just doesn't know what, but he felt something. He felt a vibration like someone plucking a string in his body, the way you feel when you drink something cold too fast. Tor can't imagine what it felt like for Loke.

He puts the glass and jam soaked paper towels into the garbage bin. Loke tries to offer him a slice of bread but he refuses it, head shaking lightly.

"You're acting like you saw a ghost," Loke says, and bites into his slice.

"I thought you were hurt," Tor says.

"But I'm not." Loke holds his hand out to show him, turning his wrist. "I'm perfectly fine."

\--

They don't talk about it. Loke wants to, Tor can tell by the way he keeps glancing at his hand, but he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to think about it. They go on with their days like nothing happened. Loke seems fine now, but Tor feels like something is different. He feels an ache in his chest he hasn't felt since months ago, but this time it's stronger. He doesn't know how to tell Loke that. He wonders if he feels it too.

Loke stares at his hand when he thinks Tor isn't looking. He flexes his fingers and twists his wrist like he wants it to happen again. Tor kisses him often to distract him from it, and Loke seems content enough with that. Two nights later, they order take out, change into their pajamas, and eat on the couch, watching crap TV and talking about work, about school. Things seem slightly more normal. Loke still refuses to go anywhere warmer for the winter.

They fall asleep against each other, both too lazy to move from the couch. Tor is exhausted for no reason. He didn't work today, but after everything that happened, he still feels drained. When he wakes up again, it's still dark out. He blinks, eyes adjusting, confused. The flat is quiet, but not the quiet it usually is. This quiet is different, ominous. There's no sound coming from anywhere. Something is wrong. Tor sees Loke awake next to him. He's looking around the flat like he's sensed it too, nervous and bright eyed.

"Loke?"

"I thought I heard something," he says.

Tor sits up more and listens. He hears it seconds later, a sound like a plane, only subtler, and just overhead. It sounds like it's on top of their building. All at once, the noise disappears, and then the flat goes quiet again. Something terrible crawls in Tor's chest.

"Maybe we should—"

Their front door blasts open.

\--

For a few seconds, Tor can't hear anything. There's nothing but a ringing in his ears, and Loke grabbing his arms to pull him back. Then everything becomes loud.

Even through the smoke, Tor can still see the two figures that rush in. In his panic, his mind tells him they're burglars, but once the smoke clears, it takes only seconds for him to recognize who they really are: Iron Man. Captain America. He's seen them on the news. Everyone knows who they are. What he doesn't understand is why—why are they here? Tor immediately shields Loke with his body, pressing him against the wall and spreading his arms out like he can protect him.

"What are you doing?" he says. "What's going on?!"

No one answers them.

"Is this them?" Captain America says. "They look…odd."

"Sensors say yeah." Iron Man's voice is tinny and lighter than Tor imagined it would be. "It's definitely them."

"What is going on?" Tor says again.

"Thor, I don't understand one word that's coming out of your mouth." Iron Man has a gun on them. "Speak English, man."

Captain America says, "I think he's speaking Swedish."

Tor blinks, trying to remember his words. He hasn't spoken English in ages.

"My name isn't Thor," he says, now in English and struggling to keep up. "My name isn't—what do you want?"

Iron Man and Captain America exchange glances with one another.

"And what," Iron Man says, "that's not Loki?"

He gestures at Loke.

"No," Tor says. "Please don't shoot."

He stands steady but his fists are shaking, and he can feel that Loke is shaking, too. He's terrified, he's fucking terrified. Captain America and Iron Man…they're superheroes. They shouldn't want anything from them. They aren't criminals, they aren't important. They're nobodies.  

"Something's wrong," Captain America says.

"Loki did something to him," Iron Man says. Then to Loke: "What the hell did you do to your brother?"

"Nothing. I didn't—" Loke's voice cracks. "You've made a mistake—"

"Stop pointing that gun at him," Tor says.

He reaches out in a stupidly brave motion and knocks Iron Man's hand away. He thinks they're going to kill them right then and there, but instead they both take a step back. A tense silence settles between the four of them. Loke's hand is twisted in Tor's t-shirt.

"Look," Captain America says. "Widow and Hawkeye are overhead with the jet. Bruce is ready to Hulk if need be. You aren't getting out of here. We know you did magic Loki, that's how we found you. Now stop this."

Tor blinks. "Magic…"

They're talking about earlier. They're talking about when Loke made the jar explode. But that wasn't magic. There's no such thing, and even if there was, Tor would know if Loke had something like that. Tor looks back at Loke to be sure, but his face is blank with shock. Eventually, Iron Man's mask opens and reveals his face. He looks as confused as they do.

"Wait, who do you two think you are?" he says.

"I _know_ who we are," Tor says. "I'm Tor, and this is Loke."

"Is that supposed to be a joke?"

"No," Loke says.

"But you live in Asgard," Captain America says.

"No…We live here," Tor says.

"You live here," says Iron Man. "In Stockholm. With your brother."

"My brother...?" Tor realizes they mean Loke. "I don't have a brother. Loke is my boyfriend."

Iron Man's face twists strangely.

"What the fuck is going on," he says, not to anyone particular.

"I really think they don't know," Captain America says, and turns to the side. He presses against his ear and speaks to someone.

Tor touches Loke's lower back to steady him, even though Loke isn't falling. He feels like Loke is going to get pulled away from him at any moment, and then there will be nothing, and he'll be alone again. Loke will be alone. He isn't going to let that happen. Tor looks at him and smiles, weak, but still trying to reassure him that they'll be okay. He just isn't sure he believes it.

"Okay, you need to come with us," Captain America says.

"We aren't going anywhere," Loke says.

Tor nods. They have a life here. He has work, Loke has school. They can't possibly expect them to just leave.

Iron Man's mask shuts again.

"Sorry, Loki—Loke—whatever. You guys don't have a choice."

Loke sneers. "You can't—"

Tor grabs his hand to silence him and Loke hisses at him.

"We have rights, Tor. They can't just take us."

"Look at them," Tor says. "We don't have a choice."

"You're not in trouble," Captain America says, after which Iron Man adds, "Yet."

Captain America nudges him with an elbow. "I mean it, we're trying to help, okay? But we need you to come with us."

They walk. Tor still holds himself in front of Loke, a semblance of protection. He still doesn't know what's going on. They said they weren't under arrest, but it feels like they are. Captain America walks in front of them, Iron Man behind, and Tor feels very much like a prisoner.  

Instead of going downstairs, they go up to the roof. The jet the Captain talked about is there, back hatch open. The slick blackness of it makes Tor hesitate. It's freezing out, snow falling, and for the first time, Loke must feel it, because he starts shivering next to Tor. Another man with glasses stands at the edge of the hatch, collar turned up.

"This is them?" he says. "They look…different."

"I know," Iron Man says. "But it's them. Trust me."

They herd Tor and Loke on board, strapping them in like they're incompetent prisoners.

Once the hatch of the jet closes, they take off.

No one speaks to them. The woman and man in the front glance back at them and then talk quietly amongst themselves. Iron Man and Captain America are across from them, and then another, Tor thinks they called him Bruce, is seated further away. Loke reaches up at one point to wipe at his eyes and they all tense, hands flying to their weapons. Loke puts his arm down.

"This is a mistake," Tor says to him. "It's okay, we'll be home soon."

But he's starting to wonder if maybe they're the ones who are mistaken.

The flight is awful, nothing but unanswered questions. Loke and Tor are exhausted, but neither can find sleep. They don't even know where they're going, though Tor has a hunch it's the United States. He doesn't like these people. They watch him like they pity him, but they watch Loke like he's an enemy. And they called him Loki, the Norse god. They said he and Tor were brothers. Tor shifts in his seat. He reaches over and takes Loke's hand in his own, feeling the realness of him. Loke is the only thing he's sure of right now. Tor shuts his eyes and listens to the others whisper, repeating their real names in his head so he won't forget them.

He jerks awake when the jet lands. He doesn't remember falling asleep, but now he's wide-awake again, and still exhausted. Tor glances at Loke, nervous, and Loke looks just as bad. The back hatch of the jet opens and sunlight spills in. Tor shuts his eyes tight and then opens them again.

"Come on," Captain America says to him. "We're here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied I updated really soon


	3. Loki

They're in a room with no windows. At first it's just darkness, Tor and Loke alone in metal chairs. Loke can hear Tor nervously tapping his foot against the floor. He reaches out and puts his hand on Tor's thigh to still him, and Tor's hand immediately covers his own. He wishes he could summon the green lightning again—magic, the avengers called it. If he could, he would get them out of here. But Loke doesn't know how it happened in the first place, just that it happened, just that it led the avengers to them. It's his fault.

"Do you think they're right?" Tor says in the darkness. "Are we other people?"

"No," Loke says. Then, "I don't know."

"You've felt it." He hears Tor shift. "We've both felt it—like we didn't belong. Maybe this is why."

Loke snorts. The idea is so ridiculous, and at the same time so oddly fitting.

"Superheroes," he says.

The lights come on then, bright and clinical. Tor and Loke squint against them as the avengers enter the room. They sit opposite them and Iron Man— _call me Tony_ —pulls a laptop out. The rest are watching Tor and Loke carefully, trying to figure them out. They are strangers at this moment, distant and fearful and unsure.

All Loke knows is that they're in New York City. He saw the sprawl of city when they stepped off the jet, but only long enough to recognize it before he and Tor were ushered inside. They whisper to each other in Swedish now so the others won't understand.

"We should have a lawyer, shouldn't we?" Tor says.

Loke looks at the gun strapped to the hip of the woman introduced as Natasha. "Somehow I don't think that will help."

He doesn't know much about politics but he knows that this goes far beyond petty crime. Something serious is happening here, it's obvious from the way everyone watches them like they're going to disappear at any moment. It makes Loke feel like a victim of something, and that makes him angry. He and Tor had just become accustomed to everything together. They were content. Why was this happening?

"They can't keep us here," Tor says. "They're superheroes, not villains."

Steve clears his throat to get their attention.

"I know this is probably scary for you," he says. "But trust me when I say we did this for the best. We had time to talk and while we…don't know what's going on, we believe you two don't either."

 _What good does that do us?_ Loke thinks.  

"We're innocent," Tor says.

"It isn't a matter of guilt—no one is accusing you of anything right now." Steve's expression is sympathetic. "We're just trying to get answers."

There are stacks of files on the table, a mountain of paper that Loke assumes is about them. Two of the other avengers, Natasha and Clint, are shuffling through them, occasionally glancing up at Tor and Loke before turning their attention away.

"If we aren't guilty, why aren't we allowed to leave?" Loke says. "You aren't telling us anything."

"The thing is, we're right about who you are," Tony says. He opens his laptop. "And we have the videos to prove it."

He swipes his hand against the screen of his laptop and then images fly out, projections against the wall. Tor and Loke turn and watch the video, the story that is supposed to be them. At first it's just someone like looks like Tor somewhere in the desert. His hair is shorter, but it looks a lot like him. It isn't just the appearance that gives it away, but his movements, his smile. First he's dressed normal, and then he's in stranger clothes. Tor shows a determination that Loke recognizes easily, a hammer swinging in his hand. Thunder booms on screen. It's clearly him. Then the video switches, and Loke sees himself.

And he is _terrifying_. His eyes hollow and unhinged, body curled to strike. He kills like it's that easy. Loke wants to look away, but the video is as mesmerizing as it is scary, and so he doesn't. He can't. His appearance is the complete opposite of Tor's, darker and more menacing.

"It's you," Tony says. "Both of you. That's who you are."

"No," Loke says softly.

But he knows it's true, even if it doesn't make any sense, he knows it. He is Loki. He _feels_ it. Denying it at this point would be stupid. The memory of what he's seeing is lost, but the feeling of it remains, like looking at a picture of himself as a baby. This is who he is, who they are. He is Loki. He looks at Tor—at _Thor_ , and sees his eyes searching the screen, wide and blue. Loki looks back at the video and watches himself again. He's blowing up buildings, snarling, all teeth, and he's hitting Thor, actually hitting him. It's like he wants to kill him. Loki's stomach twists. They're gods. They're _brothers._

How could they think they were other people? Who made them think it? In the video, he stabs Thor and blood sprays across the ground, bright red and real. This is him, but he doesn't know this person at all. He doesn't understand.

"Loke." Thor touches his shoulder. "Are you—"

The room spins. Loki turns to the side and thinks he's actually going to vomit. He retches, but nothing comes out, it's just dry heaving, the twisting of his lungs. Thor is gripping his shoulders and it's making Loki feel like he's suffocating. He stands to escape Thor's hold, one hand against the wall for leverage, the other wiping at his mouth.

"Turn it off," Thor says. " _Turn it off._ "

The video disappears and Loki considers bolting for the door. He wouldn't get far, but he's so furious at them all right now he wants to try it. He's furious at them for showing them this, for shattering the illusion of what was. Loki doesn't know what's worse, having seen it all or the strange familiarity that sparked in his chest from it. He doesn't run. He sits back down.

"Your real names are Thor and Loki," Steve says. "The life you've both been living is a fabrication."

"How," Thor says. "No, that can't be right. I look like Thor, but I'm not him. Loke is not a murderer—"

"But I am," Loki says.

He's staring at the ground, at his bare white feet. He can feel Thor watching him, but he doesn't want to look at him right now.

"Loke…"

"You know it's true."

Thor goes silent.

Natasha speaks for the first time.

"Let's just start from the beginning. We lost contact with Thor nearly a year ago. Do you have any memories from then? Anything that seems out of place?"

"That is a ridiculous request," Loki says, looking up. "If we lived a lie that we believed, how would anything about it feel abnormal?"

Natasha's lips thin. "Just try."

Thor's brows furrow and Loki can tell he's really trying to remember, but he isn't sure he wants to at all. The whole month of March is a blur, hectic and gray. Nothing happened that month, nothing out of the ordinary. He hadn't even met Thor yet. All Loki did was go to class and go home. He didn't even dream—

"No," he whispers.

"What?" Thor says. "What?"

"The dream."

He tries to remember it, but it's like trying to imagine what it feels like not to exist. It's impossible, foggy. The night itself feels clear enough, though—the darkness of the room, the feeling of something missing. Loki even remembers the way the light of the moon cut through his curtains and lay in stalks of pale silver on his bed sheets.

"I don't remember the dream, but I remember waking up to thunder," he says. "And I haven't had a dream since."

"The night of the storm," Thor says, and then the color drains from his face and it's obvious now that he's accepted this for what it is.

Tony leans over and whispers something to Bruce that Loki can't quite hear. Thor is watching him, and Loki can tell from his expression that he hasn't had a drea, since that night either.  

"Someone did this to you," Natasha says.

"Someone with a pretty cruel sense of humor," says Tony.

"Our names, you mean," Loki says.

Tor and Loke are nothing more than modern versions of their real names. The lack of creativity is almost laughable.

"Well, that and the whole, you know, incest thing," Tony says. "But I guess that's the least of your worries right now."

Natasha waves her hand to get Tony to shut up.

"So it's safe to say someone in Asgard probably did this to you both…that's your home, by the way. We need to get you back there."

Loki blinks. He hadn't actually considered going back. He hasn't been able to really consider anything quite yet, but all he wants to do is shrug this off. What does it matter if they can't remember it? If it's been this long, maybe no one misses them. Maybe they lost their memories for a reason. He's never wanted to be in Stockholm so much before…but Stockholm isn't his home at all. That makes sense now, at least. They didn't belong there. They didn't belong anywhere.

Thor grabs Loki's wrist.

"Our family," he says, and nothing else.

A family they don't remember. Loki brings a hand to his forehead and presses against the throbbing there. He hasn't felt this headache in months. There's silence, and then Thor is talking with the avengers again, but it all sounds like noise to Loki's ears. Anger bubbles in his chest and head. What if _this_ is a mistake? What if their lives in Sweden are real, and this is an illusion? But he knows, in his heart he knows this is real, even if he doesn't want it to be.

"Wait a minute," Steve says. "Why hasn't anyone come to look for them?"

"Maybe no one there remembers them either," Bruce says. "That means something is happening in Asgard. Even if we could send them back, it would be sending them to their death. They need their memories."

"So they just need to remember," Clint says.

Loki glares at him.

"You make it sound so easy."

"Hey, listen, by all rights we shouldn't even be helping _you_ —"

"Enough, Clint," Natasha says, just as Thor stands and tells Clint to _watch it._

Everyone just speaks over each other after that. Loki holds his head, mind replaying the video over and over again—his bone white fingers killing with no after thought, the emptiness of his eyes. It's like living a nightmare. At least Thor's true self is someone noble, a hero. Loki is the embodiment of something evil.

Eventually, they're allowed to sleep. The arguments drift away and everyone realizes that they'll get nowhere without rest. Tony and Natasha guide them to a different floor with a bedroom. The room looks lived-in, and Loki wonders if this used to be Thor's room. He's an avenger, after all, or was. They called him their friend.

"There's another room for you, Loki," Tony says, and then coughs. "Uh, actually, you probably don't need it, never mind."

Brothers, Loki remembers. He's too exhausted to make a comeback. He settles for staring blankly at the bed, tired in every way imaginable. Once Tony and Natasha leave, Thor climbs into the bed. Loki hangs back, hesitant. Thor is watching him the way he usually does, but there's something else in his expression, like he isn't quite sure who Loki is anymore.

"Come to bed, Loke," he says.

"That isn't my name."

"…Loki," Thor says. He holds a hand out. "Come here."

"Are you sure you want me to? I'm not who you thought I was."

"Come here," Thor says again, so Loki does.

He lets Thor take hold of him. He pulls him down and wraps himself around Loki, like he's desperate not to let him go. Loki's nose is crushed against his collarbone but he doesn't complain, he just shuts his eyes. They sting and feel as though he's been crying, even though he hasn't. It is quiet, but the quiet is unfamiliar. Everything feels so unfamiliar. The hammering of Thor's heart lulls Loki into another dreamless sleep.

\--

Waking up is disorienting. At first, Loki doesn't remember where he is, or what's happened. Then the force of the memories hit him. He and Thor aren't who they thought they were. They're brothers. Gods. Enemies. A hero and a villain. Someone did this to them. Loki feels for Thor and realizes he isn't in bed. Panic grips him, and he bolts upright, looking around the room for him. He isn't there. His mind supplies him with insane scenarios, like he's been killed, or gone back to Stockholm or Asgard without him. Loki opens their door and checks into the hallway. It's enormous, far larger than he remembers. He wants to call out Thor's name, but he doesn't want the avengers to know he's up, so he stays silent.

It hits him at once that they left Alrik behind. Loki swears louder than he means to. He's never going to see him again—he knows that. With any luck, Alrik bolted out the open door and someone is taking care of him. Either way, he's better off than they are. Loki is starting to wonder if he was even real. He keeps walking.

The building seems endless. Loki steps into the elevator but has no clue where each button leads, or who might be on what floor. He hits the top button in frustration and waits. He used to complain because Thor's building didn't have an elevator, and lugging groceries up the stairs was a pain. He supposes he'll never have to worry about that again. The elevator comes to the top floor and the doors open into a penthouse suite. Loki steps out, nearly on tiptoes, and then voice from the ceiling speaks and Loki flinches.

"Sir, Loki has entered the penthouse."

Tony is already walking towards him, but he thanks the voice in the ceiling regardless.

"Where is Thor?" Loki says.

"Talking with Bruce." Tony regards him carefully. "You don't have your memories back, do you?"

Loki shakes his head and Tony relaxes, no longer watching him like a threat. He gestures for Loki to sit down.

"Might as well put your feet up, then. Thor might be a while."

"I want to see him."

He sits anyway. Tony walks back and starts making a drink at his bar.

"No can do at the moment, sorry," he says. "How about a scotch, instead?"

"It's not even noon," Loki says, but Tony is already making him a drink.

Outside the penthouse windows, Loki can see more of the city, buildings upon buildings that seem endless in front of him. Tony comes back over and hands him a glass. Loki takes it and then Tony sits on the other couch, facing him. They don't speak. Loki looks down at the scotch in his glass. It's amber colored and strong smelling. He looks back up at Tony, unsure of why he offered him, the enemy, a drink.

"So, this is weird," Tony says, breaking the silence.

"What is?"

"Me, you, having a drink." Tony motions to him with his glass. "Also you're wearing pajamas."

Loki looks down at himself. He's the same wearing black sweatpants and dark gray t-shirt from when the avengers took them. It's nothing out of the ordinary, but maybe for the Loki he doesn't remember, it actually is. From the videos he saw, he seems to prefer complicated leather and green. Loki takes a sip of his scotch.

"We're enemies," he says.

"That's putting it lightly," Tony says. "You've tried to kill us about, I don't know, five or six times."

Loki holds the glass in both hands, letting the condensation wet his palms.

"Why?" he says.

"I think it might have something to do with you being evil."

Loki looks down into his scotch. The ice is melting slowly, diluting the color. He doesn't feel evil. He isn't sure what it should feel like. All he feels right now is angry and confused. And lost. He feels lost without Thor here beside him. He wants to know…he _needs_ to know that Thor is feeling this way too.

"So," Tony says, and Loki looks back up, having forgotten he was even there. "You strip away all that angst and you guys fall in love."

He's talking about him and Thor. Loki suddenly feels far more defensive.

"We didn't know we were brothers." He puts his glass down on the table and wipes his palms dry against his sweatpants. "We didn't know each other."

"I guess it doesn't matter," Tony says. "Once you get your memories back you'll be trying to kill him again."

"You sound very certain of that."

"People aren't hard to read." Tony throws back the rest of his drink and then motions for Loki to slide his across the table. Loki does, and Tony picks it up to drink it. "Even people from different planets. When it comes down to it, everyone is the same."

"You think I won't love him anymore," Loki says, voice tight. He doesn't like that Tony is accusing him, acting like he knows _anything_ about him. He doesn't know the first thing.

"No, you've always loved him. You guys have this weird, co-dependent thing going on. So really, we should have seen the whole incest bit coming from a mile away. It's always been obvious how much you love Thor—that's why you can't kill him. I just think that once you remember, you won't be able to forget."

Loki's fist hits the table and he can't remember when he made the decision to do that. His teeth are ground together so tight he wouldn't be surprised if they cracked, but then he's opening his mouth and snarling at Tony to shut up, just _shut up._

Tony is out of his seat in an instant, hand fishing in his pocket until he pulls out a remote. He holds it up like a threat, drink still in his other hand. He looks afraid of Loki, eyes wide. Loki pulls his fist away and tucks it by his side so it doesn't move without his permission. Fury is clouding in his chest but he forces it away. The headache beats behind his eyes again.

"I'm sorry," he says.

It must be something he would never say, because Tony slides the remote back into his pocket. He doesn't sit down again. Loki is actually a little embarrassed, but also afraid. He doesn't want to be like this, he doesn't want to be Loki. He presses his palm against his forehead and tries to calm down.

"You know," Tony says. "You tried to kill me in this very room once."

Loki glances up at him. "Was it because you're so profoundly annoying?"

The ceiling speaks again.

"Sir, Dr. Banner and Thor have finished. Thor would like to see his brother."

"Yeah," Tony says. "Send 'em up."

As soon as the elevator doors open, Thor searches Loki out. Once he sees him, he rushes toward him. Loki stands in time for Thor to pull him into a hug, head resting on his shoulder. He returns the hug, digs his fingers into the fabric of Thor's t-shirt and inhales the smell of him. The whole thing is comforting to Loki, and he doesn't care that Tony and Bruce are watching. When they finally part, Thor keeps one hand on the small of Loki's back.

"It's going to be okay," he tells him.

"Thor and I were talking about your situation." When Bruce says this, Loki eyes him carefully. Why wasn't he involved? If it's their situation, he should have been there. Thor's hand keeps him from speaking and lets Bruce continue. "Tony and I worked on finding a way to get your memories back last night. We created…well, basically a machine that will send electrical impulses to your brain to stimulate the long-term memories locked away there."

"It won't hurt us," Thor says.

Loki frowns. "You already said yes?"

"He wouldn't do anything without talking to you first," Bruce says.

Loki's mind spins. Dealing with their true identities was one thing, but to force the memories back is something Loki doesn't like at all. Thor is smiling next to him though, seemingly excited by the idea of it all. Loki isn't too sure. In fact, he's absolutely sure he doesn't want those memories back. Thor is only seeing the positive in this, brash as always. His silence makes Tony and Bruce exchange nervous glances. Bruce finally shrugs, arms noncommittal at his sides, less threatening to Loki than the others, even though he knows what he can turn into.

"Why don't you two talk about it in private," he says.

"We will," Loki says.

He grabs hold of Thor's hand as they walk back to the elevator, taking one last look at Tony, who's watching him his arms crossed. He won't have to worry about never being able to forget if he doesn't remember.

\--

Loki shuts the door to their room and leans against it, as if his body will block the sound from escaping. His heart and head are pounding. Thor leans in and kisses him. He starts to pull away, but Loki grabs his shirt and holds him close.

"What is it?" Thor says. "You seem anxious."

Loki shakes his head. "Let's leave."

Silence. Thor watches him with a confused expression, eyebrows drawn downward.

"Leave? Why would we leave—what are you saying?"

"We can leave," Loki says, more into the idea now. "We don't have to remember. We can go back to how it was…not this way."

Thor watches him like he's breaking his heart. Like he doesn't understand.

"Loki," he says. "Loki, we can't. Our lives—"

"What lives? You saw the footage. I hate you, Thor. I hate you so much I tried to kill you." Hysteria grips him tight and shakes him. "I don't want to remember that. Do you? Do you want that?"

Thor grabs him and pulls him into his chest. He strokes Loki's hair, kisses his temple. Loki can't remember how to breathe properly, he just shakes, ribcage rattling with each attempted inhale. Thor strokes down his spine.

"Okay," he says. "Okay, it's okay."

Loki wants to scream at him. He hates that Thor is so ready to accept this, but why wouldn't he be? He'll be loved by all again, accepted. Loki will be back to darkness, back to hate.

"Listen to me, Thor," he says. "We should leave before we can't change it."

He feels Thor shake his head. "We _can_ change it. Now that we know, we can change it."

Loki watches the wall. There's a small crack in it that reaches down to the floor. A shiver runs up his spine.

"What if when I remember, I don't want to change it?"

Thor pulls back and touches his cheek. "What if you do?"

He would love to believe Thor's optimism more than anything. He just can't be sure. Neither of them can.

"You are an incredible fool," Loki says.

And then Thor is laughing, head thrown back. Loki can see his throat bobbing with the force of it. When Thor finally gets his bearings back, he gives Loki an affectionate look, though Loki doesn't understand what's so damn funny about it.

"I should have expected that answer from you," Thor says in way of explanation.

Loki does let himself smile at that, the heaviness before them temporarily forgotten. Thor grips his shoulder, serious again.

"Listen to me," he says. "We're going to be fine. Bruce told me that I love you even with my memories."

"As a brother." Loki laughs now, but his laugh is much colder. "You won't be so quick to love me the way you do now once you remember that."

"I think I will."

Thor pulls Loki with him as he steps backwards, their bodies following one another as if they were magnets. Loki wonders if this will be the same after their memories return, or if they will repel each other. They stop just before the edge of the bed, and Thor tucks a strand of Loki's hair behind his ear.

"We have to do this," he says.

"Nothing will be the same. It's going to ruin everything."

"I know," Thor says. "But we can try and fix it. Together. I won't do this without you."

Loki knows this, he does. They're together in this no matter what. Instead of saying that, he kisses Thor hard, makes sure to taste every inch of his mouth in case he never does again. When he pulls back, Thor knows his answer.

\--

He lets Thor do the talking for once. He doesn't want to interact with the avengers any more than he has to. Loki stands at Thor's side, close enough to touch him because he knows the way it makes the others feels. He likes that they're a little afraid of him, and that worries him some. It must be like this a thousand times more with his memories.

"So you both agree?" Bruce says. "You'll try the machine?"

"Yes," Thor says.

He looks nervous. He fiddles with the pens on the table, the backs of the chair. Thor can't keep his hands still, and he keeps glancing at Loki as if he should add something. Loki just wants Thor to change his mind. He wants to go home. He wants to watch Thor fix cars and wipe the grease from his brow.

Tony claps his hands together.

"Good, what are we waiting for, then? Let's get this show on the road."

Loki shuts his eyes, breathes out, and opens them. They're doing this, then. Whatever happens next is out of his control, and he hates that. Bruce and Tony start for the door, already discussing the specifics of their machine. Loki follows, reluctant, trying to sear the memories of their fake life into his brain. He doesn't want to forget them when he gets his old ones back. He stops when he realizes that Thor has yet to follow. Loki sees him standing still, looking conflicted.

"Thor...what are you doing?"

"I..." Thor shakes his head. "Wait."

Everyone turns at his voice.

"What is it?" Steve says.

"Give us one more day," Thor says.

Loki stares at him, silent.

"Just one more day to be as we are," Thor says. "Please."

No one says anything. Loki can't even seem to find his voice. Steve looks at Bruce, who looks at Tony, who just shrugs.

"You understand that the longer you stay here, the more danger your home is in," Bruce says.

"I know."

Bruce, Tony, and Steve all look at Loki like he put Thor up to this, but they don't seem very put off by the idea. 

"I think one more day won't kill anyone," Tony says finally.

Loki feels weirdly giddy. He was ready to threaten not going through with it all, but the avengers seems eager to fill any of Thor's requests. One more day. Twenty-four hours. It's short, but longer than Loki thought they had a minute ago. Once the others leave them, he wraps his arms around Thor's neck, content for once with not speaking. He wants a thousand more moments like this, silent and complete.

"One more day," Thor says, and it sounds like a lifetime. 


	4. Interlude

When he wants to be alone, Steve goes up on the roof. He's leaning against the railing, hair wind blown, the lights of the city glowing around him when Bruce finds him. He doesn't say anything, just hovers next to him, turns his collar up against the wind. They stand like that for a while, silent, watching the cars move below, the people. This high up, they all look so tiny. Insignificant.

"You okay?" Bruce says finally. "You were kind of quiet back there."

"I'm fine," Steve says, staring outward.

"Why do you look so depressed, then?"

Steve sighs, arms crossed. At first he just shrugs, but then he turns to face Bruce.

"I was just thinking," he says. "It must have been nice for them to forget."

Bruce nods, and Steve wonders if he hadn't been thinking the exact same thing. Maybe they all have.

"Yeah…but it isn't real. It's nice, but it's not real."

"I know," Steve says.

"And we need Thor back."

"We're going to get Loki with him."

They both make pained faces, lips pulled tight. Sirens wail below. Bruce eventually shrugs.

"I've kind of accepted that they're a package deal by now."

\--

They can't go anywhere without risking being recognized. Thor on the street is one thing, but Loki's presence would cause chaos. They're confined the tower, which neither of them particularly cares about. This isn't about going anywhere, this is about being. By now, Thor wants to get his memories back. He wants to fix whatever has happened. But he also knows that means losing a life he is attached to, and maybe even more than that. There's a chance that Loki will get his memories back and reject anything that's happened on earth. Thor knows this.

When they were walking to the others, it was all he could think about. He realized that he wasn't ready to let go of that. He wanted one more day, needed one more day to hold on to, incase it was the only day they got.

And so, they wake up that morning and don't move from bed for another hour. Loki rests his head over Thor's heart and Thor twists the black strands of his hair around his fingers until they curl. He doesn't want to leave this bed. Every second spent in it makes it harder and harder to imagine getting out of it, but Thor also wants to _do_ something. If this is their last day, he wants to make the most of it.

"What should we do?" he says.

Loki shrugs against him. "What we usually do."

He makes them both breakfast. He doesn't know the way around the kitchen, so it takes longer than they plan, but Thor is content to watch Loki scramble the eggs and fry the bacon. They eat together at the table. The tower is eerily silent, as if they're being avoided, but Thor isn't worried about any of that right now. Halfway through breakfast, Bruce walks into the kitchen. He does a poor job of pretending not to watch them while pouring his coffee. When he finally leaves, Thor grabs Loki's hand from across the table and squeezes. Loki squeezes back.

"Do you suppose we ever did this?" he says. "In our real lives?"

Thor chews his eggs thoughtfully. "I feel like we did, maybe. We could."

Loki nods. "Yeah, we could."

\--

Rather than look for himself, Steve interrogates Tony for information. They've all been quiet, and that's a bit unnerving to him. But he knows Tony has been around the tower all day, so he corners him in his workshop and watches Tony fiddle with…something.

"Yes, dear?" Tony says.

Steve presses his lips together. 

"Have you seen Thor and Loki?"

"Yup," Tony says, tongue out as he twists a screw.

"What are they doing?" Steve says.

"Nothing…well…" Tony motions vaguely with his free hand. "They're watching TV and cuddling."

The idea of Thor and Loki cuddling is something Steve can't really imagine. It also makes his chest tighten with guilt.

"Oh."

"Yeah," Tony says.

A part of Steve hadn't trusted Thor when he asked for another day. It wasn't Thor that he didn't trust, it was the situation. He thought Loki had convinced him to leave, or Thor was having second thoughts. As it turns out, this is really what they've asked for—another day to be them. They really are in love. And tomorrow they're going to have it all taken away.

"We're doing the right thing," he says, because he knows Tony is thinking it, too.

"I sure fucking hope so."

"What do you mean?"

Tony puts his tools down and wipes his hands off on his jeans, sighing.

"I mean, maybe no one did this to them. Maybe they did it to themselves."

Steve almost asks why, but he already knows. They've all thought about it at one point or another. The dream of being normal. Even if it's just a fleeting thought, they've all had it. This life can be so tiring, always a sacrifice. Steve honestly isn't sure sometimes whether if given the choice, he'd choose this life or his old one.

"I guess we'll find out tomorrow."

Tony cocks his head and picks his tools back up. Now they're all having second thoughts. But they have no choice. They all know it. Steve leaves Tony to go work out, and destroys three punching bags in the process.

\--

He's silent, which Thor expected. It's already nighttime, which means their time is nearly up. Loki watches the moon from their bed, eyes focused intently on it. He looks like he's waiting for it to speak to them both. Thor runs his knuckles up Loki's spine and tries to think of something he can say that will make it all seem less horrible. The avengers ordered pizza for them earlier, and they ate in Thor's room and stayed silent, so silent, Thor hardly able to eat more than a slice. Whenever he looked at Loki, he was always turning his gaze elsewhere: the floor, the wall, the ceiling, anywhere but Thor's eyes. He has his back to Thor now. Thor flattens his hand against Loki's back.

"Loki," he says.

Loki turns to him, eyes still focused elsewhere. 

"Whatever happens tomorrow…" Thor isn't really sure what he's trying to say. "Whatever happens—"

"I love you," Loki says, and he looks right into Thor's eyes. "I never said it, before."

Thor blinks. Loki's never needed to say it. In all their time together, it never occurred to Thor to question whether or not he did. He just knew it. It was a fact.

"I know you do."

"But ever doubt that I do."

Loki climbs on top of him and Thor leans back into the bed, hands going to Loki's hips. They tug their shirts off. Loki rubs his hands over the expanse of Thor's chest before kissing him. Then he starts to move, pressing down against Thor's crotch for friction.

"Will you still want to do this to me when I'm your brother again?"

"Yes," Thor says, not even thinking about it.

Loki grabs his wrists and squeezes, uses them for leverage to move more. Thor refuses to shut his eyes. He watches Loki's throat, his lips, the dark sweep of his lashes. He will remember this for the rest of his days, however long that turns out to be.

"I don't want to do it," Loki says, still moving against him. "I don't want to."

Thor bites back a sob. "Loki, please."

He pulls him down and kisses him because their want means nothing anymore. Nothing at all.

They sleep entwined after. Loki breathes steadily into Thor's neck, neither of them is asleep, but waiting and dreading the morning. For the first time that he can remember, Thor is truly afraid of what will happen.

\--

There really isn't time to waste. In the morning, Jarvis wakes them both and instructs them to meet Tony and Bruce in the workshop. Thor and Loki dress in silence, both trying to catch and avoid one another's eyes. They don't have any time left anymore. Loki's eyes give him away as anxious, but he still doesn't hesitate when Thor opens their door. When they get into the workshop, Tony and Bruce are standing next to a computer, each holding a band with wires attached.

"What exactly is this?" Loki says.

"I call it the Memory Machine," Tony says.

Loki stares at him.

"Okay, fine, it's not the best name, but I was working on short notice, what do you want?"

"We're going to stimulate the part of your brain connected to long term memory with electrical pulses," Bruce says. "You might feel a tingling sensation, but other than that, it's completely painless."

"How comforting," Loki says. "How do you know this will work?"

"We don't," Bruce says. "But if our theory is correct, then it will."

Thor blinks. "Theory?"

"Your memories are locked away in there, somewhere." Tony draws an imaginary circle around his own head. "If they weren't, then Loki wouldn't have been able to call his magic. Unlock the memories, unlock your true selves."

"You're talking about science in the face of magic," Loki says.

Tony shakes his head. "Not as different as you'd think." 

Thor suddenly wants this over with as quickly as possible, so he steps in front of Loki and over to Bruce and Tony, fingers twitching in anticipation. He glances at the computer. There are two silhouetted bodies, outlines to monitor them in case something goes wrong. Thor swallows.

"Let's begin. You said there wasn't really much time."

"Oh, uh, right." Bruce fits the band over Thor's head, sticky electrodes on his temples and the back of his neck. "Loki, we'll need you over there."

Thor follows Bruce's eyes to a cylindrical cell, and he doesn't know why it shocks him. Of course they have to lock Loki up. When he gets his memories back, he could try to kill them all. Cold air rushes into Thor's lungs at the thought. He glances at Loki, he looks nearly as startled by the idea of it, but ultimately, he just snorts.

"Right," he says. "Precautions."

Tony opens the cell door and Loki steps inside without any further comment. He lets Tony fit the band over his head and stands with his arms folded behind his back while Tony shuts the clear doors. Thor stares at Loki, and Loki stares back, and for a moment Thor wants to rip the band off his head and break them both out. But he won't. He can't.

Tony and Bruce take the computer and put a good amount of space between themselves and Thor. There is no guarantee this will work, they all know that. Thor can't decide if he wants it to or not. He will admit the idea of being a Norse god is appealing, sets his mind off with fantasies, but he loves this life, even if it is fake.

"Okay, it's do or die time," Tony says, and then scrunches his noise. "Figuratively speaking."

"We'll start off with a low pulse," Bruce says. "If you start to remember anything, let us know."

Thor nods his understanding. He's still watching Loki, though Loki has long since taken to staring at the ground.

"Here we go," Bruce says, and Thor hears a switch click.

Nothing really happens. Thor feels a slight tickle in his brain, a small vibration, but that's it. Loki doesn't even flinch. He glances back at Tony and Bruce, who take that as a sign to up the pulse. Again, not much changes. Thor feels itchy but nothing resembling a memory comes to surface. He can't think of much beyond how terrified he is.

Then the tickle in his brain intensifies. It's nothing painful, but he's definitely more aware of it. The lights in the workshop hum, dim in and out.

"Any memories?" Tony says from behind.

"Nothing."

"This is stupid," Loki says.

Thor almost agrees, but then he feels more pressure in his skull, something pressing in and shoving out. It's like a truck is driving full speed toward a brick wall. Thor can see it but he can't stop it. Something is right on the edge of exploding. Thor sees Loki finally look back up at him, and he knows that he's felt it too. It's coming.

"Loki," he says, and the lights go out again.

This time, lightning cracks above them and in the darkness, Thor's mind hums. It's low at first, but then it grows louder, like a swarm of bees. It grows so loud that Thor shields his ears with his palms, but the humming is inside his brain, not out. Thor squeezes his eyes shut. He wants to beg Bruce and Tony to turn it off. He wants to leave. But then there is a bright white all around him, and Thor sees his life rewind. He sees himself on the jet, sees he and Loki at the grocery store, he and Loki riding in his car together, their first meeting. He seems himself alone, and then he's tumbling upwards, and there is something gold in front of him, like the pipes of a giant organ. It _hurts._ It feels like something is being scooped out of his brain and then shoved back in. Thor can feel his blood vessels bulging and he clenches his teeth and remembers.

He remembers everything.

The force of the memories brings him to his knees. He inhales sharply, struggling to take a proper breath. It's hard to think straight, hard to comprehend what has happened. He brings a hand to his chest and squeezes, heart pounding. There is silence. The humming goes as quickly as it came. Thor steadies his breathing. The lights return, and he staggers upright, head spinning. The first thought in his head is Loki.

"You okay?" Bruce says.

"Loki," Thor says. " _Loki._ "

Loki is still in his cell, startled, but he sees Thor and that snaps back into reality. His lip curls into a terrifying smile. 

"Oh," he says. "Oh, that _bitch._ "

The reality of the situation hits Thor very quickly. At first he's angry, but the memories of his fake life are still so fresh that the anger quickly dissolves. He stumbles over to Loki and presses his hand against the glass of the cell.

"Brother, what did you do?"

Loki says nothing. Thor can see him thinking, mind working overtime, already steps and steps ahead of him.

"Did it work?" Tony is saying. "Shit, did it seriously work?"

"Loki!" Thor says. He bangs on the cell. 

And Loki looks at him, eyes bright with something dangerous, before pressing his hand up to Thor's on the glass. For a moment, Thor thinks they've reached some kind of understanding. He thinks maybe nothing will have to change, but then magic erupts from Loki's palm, throwing Thor backwards. He lands on his back, head cracking into the floor, and there is smoke and yelling.

When Thor gets back up, Loki is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, I'm in the middle of applying to graduate school right now, so the next update won't come as quickly.
> 
> Comments and kudos appreciated alright alright~


	5. Loki

The attack hadn't lasted long. They were quick, came from inside. No one had expected it. That was the plan, after all. Amora was the one who came to Loki with the idea. Asgard had been in his rearview for some time when she found him in a rocky cave just outside Vanaheim, gutting a giant elk. The antlers were poisonous when crushed, and Loki always liked to have a bit of poison on him. He'd been hiding himself for a while, so when Amora stepped inside the cave, Loki was surprised, but did not show it. He considered, briefly, throwing his knife at her head, but Amora looked so pleased with herself that Loki could not help but listen.

"Scouring in the shadows, still?" Amora said.

She kicked the dead elk's hindquarters, her boot making a dull thump.

"All the best work is done there." Loki continued sawing at the antlers, not bothering to give her his eyes. "What do you seek of me?"

"You still desire the Casket of Ancient Winters, do you not?"

At that, Loki did look up. Desire was putting it lightly. Loki hungered for the Casket with a passion that nearly burned him. He set his knife down.

"I would use it, yes. Speak plainly, woman, what are you proposing?"

"An attack on Asgard. The chance to reclaim what is yours." Amora bent over the enormous weight of the elk and the smell of blood lingered between them. "You take the Casket, and I claim Thor."

"And I suppose…" Loki kept his voice light and nonchalant. The idea was appealing, yes, but too perfect. "I suppose you have some need of me, unless you have suddenly become a charitable being."

Amora stood and fidgeted, looking smaller.

"I cannot shield myself from Heimdall as you can," she said. "I have spent months tracking you down, Loki, do not deny me this."

"It isn't denial so much as sense." Loki picked his knife back up and resumed sawing. "Do you honestly believe us two will match the might of Asgard?"

Amora smiled. Obviously, she has been waiting for Loki to ask that question.

"I have come to acquire two Fire Wolves. The distraction will lend us more than enough time, wouldn't you say?"

Loki hid the impressed look from his face. A Fire Wolf was not easy to come by, let alone two. Amora truly had been preparing. This looked to be her last ditch effort. Loki sheathed his knife in the dead flesh of the elk and stood.

"All this for my dear not-brother?"

"Let me worry of my own desires, you worry of your own."

Loki shrugged.

"I suppose the request is hard to resist."

Amora smiled with her teeth.

The plan was simple: set the Fire Wolves free in Asgard, and in the ensuing chaos, Loki would take the Casket and Amora would take Thor. Loki had no idea how Amora planned to do so and didn't much care, since he had no intention of actually letting Amora do that. Thor was _his_ to destroy, not hers. It was a simple matter of birthright. Once she'd finished the dirty work for him, Loki would kill her. It was an excellent plan, and he didn't even have to prepare much for it.

He figured she planned to betray him as well. Loki trusted Amora no more than he trusted anyone else. On their journey to Asgard, Loki watched Amora carefully, set magpies to follow her when she wandered alone, but she did nothing suspicious. She appeared true to her word, not that Loki believed her. She seemed more intent on securing Thor as her own than anything else. No matter her ulterior motives, Loki was too enraptured with the idea of possessing the Casket to pull out, not to mention, the whole thing sounded _fun._ He'd been idle for far too long, and a little scuffle with the Asgardians was just what he needed. The Casket would only be a bonus. Whatever Amora threw his way, he would deal with in time.

Asgard's defenses were still poor against magic, especially Loki's. They teleported in without trouble, shielded from Heimdall's eyes, and it only took seconds for Amora to call for the Fire Wolves. The wolves stood a good twenty feet, and true to their name, breathed a horrible fire. After that, it was pure chaos. Loki created five clones and set them loose in the halls of the palace, drawing further attention away from them.

"Don't ever let anyone tell you that you don't live up to your name," Amora said, eyes flashing green. "This is simply divine."

Loki led them into the weapon's vault. The Destroyer was long gone, and the guards that stood in their way were easily killed, not that Loki expected it to be that simple. He felt Thor's fury minutes before he came crashing into the weapon's vault, Mjölnir swinging above his head. It had been some time since Loki had laid eyes on his brother. Thor's hair had grown longer, his eyes wiser, and he was perhaps more clever than Loki gave him credit for. He figured out fairly quickly that the Fire Wolves were nothing more than a diversion.

"Loki," he said, as if constantly surprised by his brother's wickedness. 

"Dearest Thor. You seem troubled."

Loki threw a dagger, which Thor dodged easily. Then he launched himself at Loki. After all that had come to pass between them, they wrestled still like brothers. Thor had no intention of killing Loki, no intention of hurting him more than he had to. Loki was compelled to enjoy their little tussle, but he knew that he was running out of time to get the Casket. The Fire Wolves would be killed soon enough—they were troublesome, but Asgard's warriors were skilled. He pushed Thor from him with the help of his magic, and then the two were circling each other like rabid dogs, waiting for the other to strike.

"I won't let you take the Casket," Thor said, nostrils flaring. "This siege is pointless, brother. Surrender."

Loki hissed. "You throw around such pretty words."

"Enough," Amora said, finally choosing to make herself useful. "Leave him to me, Loki. Have your prize."

"You plan fight him for his hand?" Loki made a _tsk_ noise. "I must say, I think you'll lose."

"Not at all," she said.

Her voice was so sure that Loki felt he had no choice but to look in her direction. Thor did as well. She was holding a short staff in her hand, the length of it pointed at Thor. Loki's breath froze in his lungs. He had not possibly imagined such a thing, not in an eon would he ever think her or anyone else capable…and yet she _had_. It wasn't the staff itself, but what was twisted into it. Loki knew what ancient magic that staff possessed—he had been searching for it himself. She had found it. How had he not suspected something like this, no matter how unlikely? It seemed too foolhardy, even for Amora, to risk it all without failsafe. Loki froze in place.

"Is this the reasoning for your madness, Enchantress?" Thor said. "You risk harm to Asgard over a petty crush."

"Have sense, my love." Amora stepped forward. "Pledge your life to me, and no wickedness will ever befall Asgard again."

"Never."

Thor had no clue what kind of power she was holding, and Loki stood conflicted. With that distraction, he could have potentially made a dash for the Casket, but something kept him rooted there. This was all going far beyond anything he would have ever wanted.

"Do not make this hard," Amora said. "I will have you. I will be your queen and we shall rule together for eternity."

"You speak only a delusion," Thor said. "You will never have me."

"Thor," Loki said, growing ever more wary. "Perhaps the maiden would more willing to set her weapon down if you just pledged—"

"This is not a discussion!" Thor growled. "Lives have been taken, today. I will not just give myself to her."

Loki looked to Amora. "You don't really want to use that," he said.

"Oh but I do." She straightened the arm that held the staff, fingers gripping it tightly. "Do not tell me you are thinking of stopping me?"

When Loki said nothing, she laughed.

"You are, aren't you? I think you are still soft for your brother, Loki."

Loki still isn't sure why he did it. Perhaps it was the anger at her betrayal, and anger at himself for not seeing it. But he was not about to let Amora take away Thor's memories. Those were his. He wouldn't allow it. If he were to live a life without Thor, it would be his decision, not hers. Loki flung magic at her, a piercing rain of green, but Amora was barely down a second before she had Loki locked in her aim. This was her betrayal. And Loki had fallen right into it.

"You truly are soft for him. What a pity," she said. "Fine, then. I will send you to Midgard, so you may live among the race you failed to conquer."

In the split second he had left, Loki looked to Thor. Something in Thor's face softened, grew fearful, and maybe it was because of Loki's own terror. Whatever it was, when Amora set her magic loose, Thor made the foolish decision to push Loki out of the way.

The light hit them both.

\--

He hides himself in a tree just beyond the city. Loki curls against a branch, arms draped over his knees, and tries to get his heart to stop pounding. He remembers everything, every sickening detail of his human life with Thor. And it isn't just that he remembers it, it's that he feels it. Flashes of their life run through his mind, moments of tenderness, a quiet that Loki did not think could ever exist between them. He had loved Thor so easily. The love, of course, had always been there, but it had never been easy. Loki presses against his temples, feels the dull ache finally leave. He had thought that the return of his memories would give sense to it all, but he just feels more confused, more lost. Nothing makes sense.

The worst part is that Thor knows, now. He knows. Loki had always had this once advantage over him, and now Thor knows how easily he will crumble for him. And not only Thor, but his comrades—Loki's own enemies. He feels weak and humiliated. But it was magic. It was a magic more powerful than Loki could ever hope to be. All that happened before now is irrelevant.

All that matters is that Amora pays with her life. There is nothing she could do now that would win Loki's forgiveness. He will find her in Asgard, and he will torture her until she begs for death, but even then he will not give it to her. Loki will wait until she is a shell, and then he will cut off her head. He clenches his fists. Anger makes him want to return to Asgard immediately, but Loki knows better. No one had come to look for Thor. That means Amora has used her magic on more of Asgard, perhaps all. To rush in immediately would be foolish…and something Thor would do.

Loki curses and stands up. Thor will likely call for Mjölnir, and that will only alert Amora that their memories have been restored. He needs the element of surprise or he won't stand a chance—he barely does as it is. That means he has to see him again. Loki flushes. His mind won't let him forget the feeling of Thor's hands on him, _in_ him. It makes his pelvis ache. He shuts his eyes, breathes in. The air is crisp and clean smelling from winter. Loki would be content to never look upon Thor again, but he must. He has to stop him before he ruins everything. Loki breathes out.

He gets back to the tower and sees Thor on the rooftop with Tony and Steve. Thor is raising his hand to the sky, predictable as ever, so Loki tackles him. They dent the roof as they tumble down together, Thor growling. Tony and Steve stand back and watch, perhaps too confused to intervene. Either way, Thor gains the upper hand almost immediately—he's always been able to best Loki in terms of raw strength—and Loki is pinned to the hard floor. He doesn't mind for the moment. He needs Thor's undivided attention, and right now he has it.

"Do not call for Mjölnir, you fool! She'll know."

Thor bares his teeth at Amora's mention. He has his forearm against Loki's throat and he increases the pressure.

"What are you saying? How do I know this is not some trick?"

"Stop and think," Loki says. "What would she think if your hammer suddenly came bursting through the halls to return to you?"

"She would know I am coming for her."

"Yes." Loki tries to shift so he can breathe better, but Thor's hold is tight. "And you would lose any element of surprise. She would best you in a moment and all would be lost. _Again._ "

Thor glares at him, nostrils flared. It seems that Loki has gotten through to him, though, because he sighs, brows drawing downward.

"What, then?" he says.

Loki squirms under him. The position they're in is far too reminiscent of their lives in Sweden. He feels trapped, embarrassed, and Thor doesn't even seem to realize. Heat rises to his cheeks.

"First, perhaps you could get off of me."

It's then that Thor sees it the way Loki does. He flushes and scrambles off of Loki like his skin has burned him. Loki pulls himself upright, smoothing his shirt down. He's still in Midgardian wear, but he'll change that soon enough.

"Now, then," Loki says. "I need to—"

Steve punches him in the face. Loki stumbles backwards a bit, blinking, and then he's snarling. He can feel his magic within him again, and it feels good. He has absolutely no issue with killing Steve before leaving. One less person to know what has happened. Loki steps forward, but Thor immediately steps between them, one hand on Loki's chest to keep him pushed back, the other on Steve's.

"Enough," he says.

"Don't listen to him, Thor," Steve says. "He's not who he was."

Loki scoffs. "Yes, by all means, ignore me and perish."

Tony moves from his safe distance to back Steve up. Not one of them understands the gravity of what has happened. Before Loki can try and explain, Natasha and Clint join them on the roof as well, Thor and Loki's tussle having alerted them. There is a gun and arrow aimed at Loki. Now Thor's friends are just getting annoying.

"It's all right," Thor says. "It's all right, stay your hands, friends."

"If Loki is here then it is definitely not all right," Natasha says.

"He's lying to you." Steve shoots Loki a withering look over Thor's shoulder. "You said he was responsible for what happened. You listen to him and he'll do it all over again."

"I was not," Loki says, punctuating each word carefully, "responsible for _this._ "

"Enough!" Thor says again.

He presses one hand to his forehead, eyes shut, and breathes out.

"You knew," he says, and Loki realizes that he's speaking only to him now. "You knew what she possessed. I saw it in your eyes—you feared it. What does she have, Loki?"

Thor's hand drops from his chest and Loki lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"She possesses the bark of Yggdrasil."

Thor watches him like he doesn't understand. They all do. Loki rolls his eyes.

"Oh, come now, surely you remember the tale?"

"Well I don't," Tony says. "Yggdrasil…you're talking about the tree, right?"

"Our father's spear is made from the bark of Yggdrasil," Thor says. "But it is the only one."

"But it is not," Loki says. "Gungnir was forged from the bark of Yggdrasil at the beginning of time, but a piece of the bark fell and was lost among the Nine Realms."

Thor shakes his head. "It is only myth."

"Is it? Amora found that piece. She found it, and now the power of Gungnir is in her very hand."

Loki almost reaches out to touch Thor, but he recoils, remembering. Thor is not Tor, he does not love him as Tor did. They are not as they were and they never will be again. That life was a lie. Loki feels anxious around Thor now, unsure. He doesn't like it. He just wants to leave. Every minute spent here only delays his revenge.

"You're saying that this Amora person has the power of Odin," Steve says.

"That doesn't sound good," says Tony.

Thor shakes his head. He gets it now, finally. Amora essentially banished them, much as Odin had done to Thor long ago, and now she surely has control of Asgard. Loki can't imagine what she's done with it. There may be nothing left by the time Loki gets there. He flinches when Thor reaches for him, eyes hard with understanding. He grabs Loki by the arm.

"What do we do?"

"There is no _we_ ," Loki says. "You can stay here. I care not. I am going to kill her."

"Loki, don't be foolish. You need my help."

Loki hates Thor for saying it and hates it more for being true. The task is near impossible for two, let alone one. But Loki is stubborn enough to want to die trying without Thor's help.

"I do not want your help," he says. "Look where your help has gotten us."

Thor's grip on his arm tightens. "Loki, I know not what you plan to do, but I know you cannot do it alone. Accept my help. Or would you truly let your pride ruin your chance for revenge?"

Loki tries to pull away from Thor's grip, but he holds tight. A strange panic spreads through Loki's body, one he can't identify. Thor must sense Loki's will dissolving, because he adds: "I will call for Mjölnir if you refuse."

The ultimatum has Loki hissing. He won't deny that some part of him wants Thor with him on this journey—the foolish, sentimental part of him—but everything else is screaming at him to leave now, just leave. All of this will only bring him more pain. But he needs Thor's help. He always has. 

"I'll betray you," he says.

Thor's smile is sad. "I know this."

Loki glances at the avengers. They look confused, upset. That pleases Loki. He's spent so long in that state that it's nice to see others there. He slides out of Thor's grip, suppressing the shudder under his skin. He needs Thor's help to accomplish this and he has it. They will stop Amora, and then he will put all of this behind him. He will put Thor and this life behind him. Loki looks up at the sky. It's a gray and cloudy day, the sun hidden. It will likely snow before the sun sets.

"All right then," he says. "Let us go."

"Wait," Tony says. "You can't just go. This could be a trap for all you know, Thor. You could end up right where you started. You _both_ could."

"We have to risk it," Thor says. "Amora has no doubt put Asgard in a state of terror. I cannot stand idly by and let that happen."

Steve puts a hand on Thor's shoulder. "There has to be a way—"

"There is no other way," Loki says. "Now I suggest you stand back, or the ripple of my magic will incinerate you both."

The way Steve touches Thor makes him angry but Loki doesn't understand why. It must be some kind of residual effect. His fingers itch at his sides.

"It is all right," Thor says. "Go inside. I will return after I have stopped Amora. You have my word."

Loki watches the wave of emotion in Thor's eyes. He glances at Loki, then looks down. There is a long moment where Steve and Tony just linger there, but finally Steve lets go.

"We'll be waiting for you," he says. "Do what you have to."

"Wait," Clint says. "That's it? We're just going to let him go?"

"This is Asgardian shit. We don't really have a choice." Tony locks eyes with Loki. "If he doesn't return, we'll come looking for you."

Loki grins. "I will happily await it."

Steven and Tony join the other two before stepping back inside, hanging by the open doors for a moment longer before finally shutting them, and Thor and Loki are alone on the rooftop. A strong wind blows from the west and Loki inhales the smell of Midgard for what he hopes will be the last time. He uses magic to change back into his normal attire and it feels good to be himself again. He does not miss Loke. He does not.

"Now me," Thor says.

Loki cocks his head. "But you look so good in a t-shirt."

" _Loki._ "

"Fine."

Back in his normal clothes, Thor looks more like himself and less like Tor. He adjusts his breeches, stretching and getting used to the feeling of his armor again.

"Now take us to Asgard," he says.

Loki stares at him.

"Have you listened to nothing I said? We cannot just waltz in—"

"We will just be looking," Thor says. "We have to know how bad things truly are."

It's a valid point, but still risky. Loki hesitates, so Thor adds: "This is your fault, brother—"

He cuts himself off and they both stand there, silent, the word hanging between them. _Brother._ It's been so long since they've been that to each other, even if it never really stopped. Loki hates this. He _hates_ it. He clicks his tongue.

"Fine, but only a moment to survey it. Then we must move."

"Fair enough," Thor says, "though you have not told me where we are going."

Loki likes that they aren't talking about it. There isn't really time to talk, and he doesn't want to. They have a mission to accomplish, and they will accomplish it, and Loki will disappear after and spend the rest of his days pretending he does not remember their human lives. He grabs Thor's wrist.

"I will reveal all in time," he says.

\--

They arrive at the outer walls of the palace, the dirt paths just beyond the old training grounds. The grounds remain unoccupied still, luckily for Thor and Loki. Asgard is warmer than Midgard, and the air feels almost stifling to Loki. It's always been somewhat overwhelming for him when he first returns here and sees the ever-blue skies, the warm sunlight. He stumbles on his feet.

"We'll have to sneak into the main palace somehow," Thor says.

He looks up, takes in their surroundings, ever the strategist. Loki watches him even though his vision is beginning to spin.

"If Amora truly is in power, we will know soon enough." Thor peeks around the wall. "We have to—Loki, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Loki says, and then sags against the wall.

Thor grabs him to hold him upright and Loki hisses, shoves him away weakly.

"Do not touch me."

Thor's hands go restless to his sides. "Why do you—what is wrong?"

Loki breathes in, feeling the exhaustion all the way to his feet. He was afraid this might happen, and while he knows it will pass, it doesn't make the current situation any easier.

"My magic hasn't fully returned to me," he says. "It lay dormant for so long that I must get used to using it again."

"Well how long will that take?" Thor steps toward him, then pauses, clearly struggling not to touch Loki. "Will you be able to continue?"

"Of course I will." He doesn't move. "Just…give me a minute."

Thor allows him to lean against the wall. He checks their surroundings again, searching for any sign that someone might be coming, though it has been silent for some time. Loki feels it, and so he imagines Thor must feel it as well: something is off. Something in the air is wrong, and it makes Loki's skin crawl. He is sure they won't like what they find inside the walls of the palace.

"It is too quiet," Thor says.

Loki nods. "She's still here."

A bird flies overhead and Thor looks up, squinting against the sunlight.

"Loki," he says. "What happened on Midgard—"

"No."

Loki says it with such force that Thor goes quiet. He doesn't want to hear it, he can't take hearing it. They stare at each other. There is so much unsaid between them now, but that is how Loki wants it to stay. If they speak of it, Loki has no idea what he might do.

"We have come to here to stop Amora, and that is what we will do, and when it is over, it is over."

Thor opens his mouth again, and Loki plans to silence him once more, but a blade comes to rest against Thor's throat, and they both go quiet. Loki pushes himself off the wall, lungs tightening. They let their guard down, and now all may have been for naught. He makes it a foot before he hears the voice:

"Reveal your true selves, or I will slay you."

"You would slay us anyway," Loki says. "Sif."

Thor smiles despite the blade at his throat. "Sif?"

He turns slowly, arms up, and Sif follows, poised to kill if need be.  

"Sif," Thor says. "It is truly us."

Sif looks them both up and down, blade still prone.

"Prove it," she says.

Thor's tongue sweeps over his lips. "You made me cry the first time we sparred and I had you swear never to tell."

Loki tucks his hand behind his back and curls it to a fist, ready to draw upon magic if need be and damn the consequences. But Sif's blade falls from Thor's throat and her eyes become suspiciously wet. She looks utterly shocked, as if she has been mourning this whole time.

"Thor," she says, and then hugs him tight. "By the Norns, it is you."

Thor lifts her into the embrace before setting her down.

"No warm embrace for me?" Loki says, allowing his hand to relax. "I'm hurt."

Sif ignores him, sheathing her blade. "We thought you lost to us. It has been a year—where have you been?"

"We…" Thor blushes hotly. "Never mind that. Tell us of Asgard. Where is Amora? Where is father?"

"Your father lives, but Amora has laid claim to the throne."

"She has no right to it."

"Yes, but the Allfather made it so after your disappearance," Sif says. "He agrees with her every word, Thor, it is not right. She has cast some spell upon him. It's as if he is her puppet."

Thor looks to Loki.

"She has taken his memories," he says.

"His memories?" says Sif.

Loki frowns. It's almost as bad as he imagined.

"She possesses a magic far more powerful than you could imagine."

"But Loki and I will stop her," Thor says, a hand on her shoulder. "We will end this."

"You and Loki?" Sif raises a brow. "Is it not his fault we are in this? I was there the day of the attack. He was with her."

Thor fidgets, hand dropping from her shoulder. "The details are…complicated, but Amora has wronged Loki as well."

"Trust me, I seek Amora's comeuppance as much as you," Loki says.

Sif shifts on her feet, obviously not convinced. It is clear that she is not under Amora's power, which means much of Asgard may still have its own will. That's a small relief, at best. But with Odin in Amora's hold there's not much anyone in Asgard can do without risking treason and death. They'll have to take the staff from her and destroy it in order to restore the memories of Odin and whomever else she has taken. Loki grits his teeth. He had searched for the lost bark of Yggdrasil for decades and never found it. He had resigned it to be just that—lost. But Amora had found it, by luck or fate, Loki doesn't know.

"What are you going to do?" Sif says.

"Never mind what we are going to do. Will you help us?"

Thor spins around. "We cannot ask Sif to help us with something so dangerous."

"She isn't coming with us," Loki says. "But she can help us back into the palace when we return."

Sif's hand falls to the hilt of her blade. "I do not fear the danger."

"We know," Thor says. "But you will serve us better here. How many do you think are under Amora's spell?"

"I do not know, several within the palace at least."

"What of Heimdall?"

"He seems to have his memories," she says. "But the Bifröst has been ordered closed for some time. He does not agree with Amora's ruling, but under Odin's law, he will not go against her."

"Have any tried?" Loki says.

"Not yet. I command a small army of rebels against her ruling—the Warriors Three and many from the lower towns. We would be ready to attack for you, when the time was right."

"Good," Thor says. "We will call upon you soon. Keep as you were, and do not let Amora know of your plans, do you understand? She will take your memories."

Sif looks down, understanding. Then her head snaps back up.

"Where were you, truly? Did she take your memories?"

"She did," Thor says. "We were banished to Midgard. But we found each other and broke the spell."

"How did you find each other?"

Thor goes silent, almost transparent, so Loki interrupts. "We don't have time to reminisce. We've lingered here for too long already."

Sif checks the pathways for them to make sure they're clear. They have to get closer to the border before Loki can move them out without drawing any attention. Sif signals them silently, and they follow, taking twisting rocky paths under overgrown trees that Loki has not laid eyes upon since his childhood. He does not miss the way Sif glances back at him every so often, her eyes untrusting. Some cruel part of him wants to tell her just what happened on Midgard only to see the shock on her face. But the fallout wouldn't be worth it.

They pass under the long bridge and waterfall when Sif bids them off by the river. She hands one of her blades off to Thor for a weapon. Mjölnir is most certainly still in the weapon's vault where Thor last held it, and it would make this task a thousand times easier, but they can't reach it.

"When should I expect you?" Sif says.

Loki honestly has no idea. He's never attempted what he and Thor are about to do, and he isn't even sure they will succeed.

"Two weeks at best," he says, a complacent enough lie. "You will know when we have returned."

"Be safe," Sif says, but only to Thor.

"We will." Thor embraces her again. "Now go. And do not breathe a word of this to anyone, not even your warriors."

Loki bends to his knees as she leaves. He listens to the ground as it moves beneath his feet. The Nine Realms are always moving, always breathing new life and taking it away. They work as efficiently and predictably as a well-timed clock. Inevitable. A thing that will not change, not so long as the universe exists. If Loki ever thought himself capable of inner peace, it would be thoughts like this that gave it to him. 

Thor's voice is soft behind him: "Are you strong enough now to move us between realms?"

"Do not ask me foolish questions, Thor."

He hears Thor huff, frustrated.

"You have still not told me where we are going."

Loki stands and dusts off his knees, turning.  

"There is only one way to destroy her power. We need the sap of Yggdrasil."

Thor's face twists. "The _sap_?"

"Yes, the sap. Inside the tree it nourishes, but taken out it acts like an acid, and the only thing strong enough to eat through that bark."

"You mean for us to climb Yggdrasil," Thor says.

He looks so shocked by it that Loki can't help the patronizing smile that stretches across his face. He's long accepted how foolish this is.

"Finally, you get it. This is our task, Thor. Are you still up for it?"

Thor straightens. "Of course I am."

Loki expected no other answer.

"Good," he says. "We can get to the trunk of Yggdrasil through Niflheim."

"Nifl—Loki you are mad," Thor says. "None set foot in Niflheim and leave. It is a realm for the disgraced dead."

"So we won't set our feet down." Loki grins wider. "We'll fly."

"You cannot fly," Thor says. "And neither can I, without Mjölnir."

"Leave that to me," Loki says. "We go to Nidavellir first."

"I do not understand."

"You do not have to."

Thor can't keep the frustration from his face. He bristles at Loki's elusiveness.

"Loki, tell me what is going on."

"Don't you trust me, brother? Did I not earn that on Midgard with you?"

He regrets saying it when Thor's face goes slack with guilt. Thor has always worn his emotions so plainly. Loki remembers him as Tor and the concern constantly etched into face when Loki was too quiet. It is the same concern Thor has. How different, Loki wonders, would their life here have been if they shared that same intimacy. It's stupid to wonder, and Loki knows that, but he wonders anyway. They cannot change a thing now, but Loki still thinks as though they could, and he hates himself for it.

"I wish I still did," Thor says, voice heavy with burden.

Loki looks down. He does want Thor's trust. He wants much more than that.

"Well you will have to—"

"Halt," someone says. "Stop there."

They both turn and see the guard before them, sword out. They've lingered too long again. Emotions keep making them weak.

"Do you know who we are?" Thor says, stepping forward slowly.

"You are trespassers," the guard says. "I must take you before the queen."

"He's under her spell," Loki says. "Now we'll have to kill him."

Thor turns to chastise him but the guard lunges forward, taking Loki's words as a threat. They're a promise, really. He steps aside as Thor dodges the swing of the guard's sword and then hits him with a swift uppercut to the chin, disorienting him. Thor unsheathes the blade Sif gave him and holds it over the guard's neck. The guard drops his sword in a sign of surrender.

Loki waits for Thor to kill him, but he only holds him there.

"Slit his throat, Thor, kill him."

"He has done nothing wrong," he says.

The guard's fingers twitch, outstretched, and Loki knows he is already thinking of a way to get out of this and kill them. He has no idea who they are. His memories are Amora's. Loki hisses.

"He will reveal us and ruin everything! What is more important? His life, or the lives of all in Asgard? Kill. Him."

Thor hesitates still, the compassionate oaf, so Loki steps forward and pulls a dagger from the guard's belt before piercing his heart with it. Thor inhales sharply but does nothing else. Loki watches the life drain from the guard's eyes, the clouding of his pupils. He pulls the dagger out and the guard slumps in Thor's arms. It takes a long while for Thor to exhale.

"Let him go," Loki says. "He is dead and we must be leaving."

"When did you grow so cold?" Thor says.

Loki laughs once, almost silently.

"I have always been cold, Thor. It is in my blood."

Thor finally lets the guard go, but not before pushing his body into the river. The death will raise suspicion if the body is found, though not on the level that Thor and Loki need worry about. Still, it isn't worth the risk. Loki doesn't watch the body drift downstream, but rather he watches Thor watch, and the mourning in his eyes for this being he did not know. Loki beckons him over.

"Come, we go to Nidavellir."

"If we get to the trunk of Yggdrasil through Niflheim," Thor says, "why are we going to Nidavellir? Do we have some dealings with the dwarves you have not told me of?"

"They are an ugly, hairy bunch, but their craftsmanship is unbeatable." Loki takes hold of Thor's wrist again. "I told you we would fly over Niflheim, and fly we will. But first we need wings."

"Wings?" Thor says. "The dwarves will make us wings?"

"One dwarf will. For a price."

Thor's face falls. "What price, Loki?"

And at that point, Loki can't keep the feral grin from his face anymore.

"A dragon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a quick break between apps so I went ahead and posted the next part. Ah, so many explanations.
> 
> Also--thank you all so much for all the feedback it really means a lot ♥


	6. Thor

The beast is massive. Thor watches it move in the valley below, slow and heavy, tail dragging. He's never seen a dragon this close before, though in his youth he often dreamed of slaying one. Now he just thinks this is a terrible idea. He says as much.

"Don't be so prudish," Loki says.

They're crouched behind a hill, the fresh scent of dirt tickling their noises. Loki looks far too thrilled by all of this.

"Slaying dragons is forbidden."

"Exactly why the scales are so valuable."

Thor watches the gray plume of smoke that is exhaled from the dragon's nostrils. If he had Mjölnir, taking the dragon down would be easy, but Thor seems to have little of what he wants these days. He aches to talk to Loki about what has happened, but his brother shuts down the moment he tries to speak of it, and Thor knows they have a task at hand. When Loki disappeared after their memories returned, Thor thought he had lost him once more, this time for good.

"This seems an awfully high price for two feathered cloaks," Thor says.

"I never said the dwarves weren't greedy."

Thor pulls out his blade.

"Let us do this quickly," he says. "We don't have time to waste. Distract the beast and I will attack from the back."

It's a trick they've used in their youth while hunting, and one that works well, though Thor doesn't know how well it will work against a dragon. The trouble is that dragon scales are tough—the only vulnerable area is the nape of the neck. He and Loki slide down the hillside and separate. Thor approaches quietly on the soft grass, taking small measured steps, blade prone in his hand. Loki has disappeared entirely from view. This close, Thor can see the shine off the dragon's blue scales, like a jewel or a crystal. They are truly beautiful, and he wishes he were seeing this upon different circumstances. He walks behind the dragon, keeping a safe but close distance, and waits for Loki to move.

Loki steps in front the dragon only seconds later, thin and wispy, arms folded behind his back. The dragon swipes at Loki with his claws, and Loki disappears—a clone. The dragon's neck cranes upward, confused and searching. Loki appears again to the dragon's left.

"I'm here," he says.

The dragon swipes at him again and Loki disappears. His tail straightens, a sign of agitation, so Thor readies his blade. Loki pulls the trick one last time. When he disappears again, the dragon spreads its wings. Their width alone is impressive—if dragons could be tamed, they could just ride the beast, but dragons are wild and unpredictable. Thor runs before the dragon can take flight, sprinting up the tail until he's on the dragon's back, and then slashing at one wing with his blade. The scream that the dragon lets out almost deafens him. It tries to fly off, but the injured wing encumbers it. The dragon sways to one side, awkward in its movements now, and remains on the ground.

"Loki," Thor says. "Now!"

Loki swings up onto the dragon's backside, using the dragon's own neck to propel him. Thor had almost forgotten how gracefully Loki moved, calculated and elegant. Loki raises his dagger and plunges it into the nape of the dragon's neck. The dragon screams again, and Thor only has a second to see the dragon's tail coming for him before he is being knocked from it and thrown to the ground. He plunges face first into the dirt and narrowly avoids being hit again by the tail. He jumps upright and runs back toward it only to see Loki being thrown off as well. He lands right in the dragon's line of sight. Thor leaps, knowing very well that if the dragon breathes fire, Loki will be burned alive. He scrambles back onto the dragon's back and stabs his blade into the same wound Loki made on the nape of the neck.

The dragon jolts and twitches, but Thor holds tight, pushing the blade further down until he can no longer see the hilt, until his hand is immersed in the dragon's warm insides. There's a tearing sound as the blade rips through the other side of the throat, and then the dragon goes silent and still. A moment later, the dragon lurches forward and falls dead. The ground trembles as it does so, and then all goes quiet

Thor bounds off the dragon, fearing that Loki has been crushed under its weight.

"Loki? Loki, where are you?!"

"I'm all right."

Thor steps around the dragon's head and sees Loki lying next to it on his back still, hair fanned out around him. He's breathing heavily, but unharmed. Thor drops to his knees next to him to catch his breath.

"That was fun," Loki says, and then he's laughing.

Thor laughs with him, partly from relief. There is dirt streaked along Loki's face and he has the strongest urge to reach out and wipe it away. But he stops himself, knowing just how Loki will react. He is not Loke anymore. Thor stares at the bright blood along his blade.

"What now?"

Loki sits upright.

"Now we skin it."

\--

They spend nearly three hours cutting off the dragon's scales. The scales are tough and run deep under the dragon's hide. They have to dig their blades in deep in order to free each one. By the time they've finished, Thor's hands feel raw. Loki collects them together, runs a thumb over each one before he piles them up. He won't look Thor in the eye and he hasn't since their memories returned. If there were ever a time that Thor wanted to be able to read his brother's mind, it would be now. Loki won't talk to him, and Thor isn't sure what to say. He hates what is between them now, this strange, unnamed tension. Thor doesn't regret a moment of their lives on Midgard, but he's afraid that Loki does.

Once the scales are collected, Thor thinks they'll move again, but Loki cuts open the dragon's belly instead. The smell is rancid. Thor covers his nose and looks away as Loki shoves his arm into the dragon's guts.

"What are you doing?"

"How exactly did you expect us to carry those scales, hm?" Loki says. "Or the sap from Yggdrasil? The acid would burn our skin off."

Thor finally looks. Loki has pulled out what he assumes is one of the dragon's stomachs. They have two—one small and one large, and Loki has taken the smaller. It's a red, veiny blob. Thor understands, now. A dragon is tough inside and out. The stomach will be perfect for carrying the sap. Loki slices the top of the stomach open carefully, letting the fluids drain out. The smell gets worse, but Loki doesn't seem to mind at all.

"We're lucky he hadn't eaten recently," he says. "Otherwise this would be far messier."

Loki whispers a spell, hand pressed against the stomach, and the organ shrivels, drying out. The process has turned it yellow and it reminds Thor somewhat of leather.

"There," Loki says. "Now we have a pouch."

"For my own sake," Thor says, "I won't ask how you knew to do that."

Loki smiles genuinely for the first time since they'd have their memories back.

They move finally, this time into the dwarf kingdom, to the backstreets. It would be a misstep for them to bring the scales to anyone near the castle. Slaying a dragon is forbidden in all realms, but in Nidavellir it is punishable by death. They go instead to a small house far beyond the markets, where the smell of pig shit is strong and the air thick.

"How do you know of this craftsman?" Thor says. "How do you know he won't turn us in?"

"His work is well-known." Loki hands the scales off to Thor. "And Hafgrímr would hardly refuse a project such as this."

He bends down the knock on the door. Dwarves are small, not as short as trolls, but more robust and tinier than Æsir. Thor and Loki stand out like sore thumbs, which is why they need to get off the street as soon as possible. Their presence alone draws too much attention. There is no answer, so Loki knocks again. This time, a voice calls out from inside:

"Go away!"

"Hafgrímr," Loki says. "Open your door or I will break it down."

There's a short silence, and then Thor hears someone shuffling and the sound of the door unlocking. It opens to reveal who Thor assumes to be Hafgrímr, his beard thick and brown. His nose is bulbous, one fierce black hair protruding from it. He looks up at Thor and Loki, eyes narrowing.

"What is it?" he says. "Who are you? What do you want?"

Thor starts to tell him just who they are, but Loki interrupts, taking the bag back from Thor and opening it to show the scales to him. Hafgrímr's eyes shine.

"Well," he says. "I suppose who you are isn't important. What do you want, then?"

"Two feathered cloaks," Loki says.

Hafgrímr strokes his beard, calloused fingers working through the thick knots. After a moment, he reaches out and grabs the scales before stepping aside to let them in. Thor breathes out in relief. They have to duck to enter the doorway and keep their knees bent inside to avoid hitting their heads on the ceiling. Hafgrímr examines the dragon scales, holding them up to his eyes to examine them.

"A blue dragon," he says, mostly to himself. "That'll fetch a good price. A good price indeed."

"If you are satisfied with the payment, we would have those cloaks," Thor says.

"Slow down, Æsir," Hafgrímr says, chuckling. "I have to make them first. Going to take me two nights, at least."

Thor forgets himself and stands, head bumping into the ceiling. Dust shakes onto his head. He knows it will take time, but he feels like they don't have it. The longer Amora is in power, the more damage that befalls Asgard.

"Can you not work faster?" he says. "It is urgent."

"I work as fast as my fingers let me." Hafgrímr flips one of the scales up like a coin and catches it in his palm. "And never before eating."

Thor mashes his teeth together, already annoyed, but Loki doesn't seem the least bit perturbed by the conditions, so he holds his tongue. Loki knows more about this kind of thing than he does. All Thor can do for now is trust him.

\--

Hafgrímr feeds them, a kind of oatmeal with lamb and bitter ale. He spills it all over his beard, which Thor finds rather amusing, though he's still anxious to leave and get to Niflheim. Loki really puts his silver-tongue to good use, spinning Hafgrímr a tale of their travels that Thor can barely keep up with. He doesn't present them as brothers, but as companions and thrill seekers. Thor eats seconds to avoid talking even though the lamb is too tough.

After, Hafgrímr kicks them out and banishes them to his barn so he can begin working. There are no horses in the barn, or animals of any kind for the matter, just straw beds and various half-used substances—oils, grain, weed. Thor realizes it's a place to hide refugees. The ceiling is, at least, much higher. They can actually stand up.

"You can sleep here until I've finished," Hafgrímr says. "Just don't go making yourselves noticed."

He leaves them. Wind howls through the barn, sneaking into the woodwork and making it creak. Loki sits on one of the beds and stretches his legs out. There is still a streak of dirt across his cheekbone, and Thor's fingers are twitching. He sits on the bed opposite, silent. Loki is staring out into nothing, looking, for a moment, as lost as he did the night Thor met him in Stockholm.

An hour passes, and Loki still doesn't say anything him. Thor can't take it any longer. They could speak of something, at least. Anything.

"How do you suppose Amora found the lost bark of Yggdrasil?"

Loki is lying flat on the bed, arms folded behind his head. He stares at the ceiling.

"Luck," he says finally. "As all creatures are bound to have at one point."

Thor realizes that he doesn't have any idea. It's obvious that Loki wanted that power for himself. Thor can see it in his eyes so easily, and that is why this whole trip worries him. He doesn't know if the sap will actually destroy the bark, or if Loki is simply lying to him so that he can steal it for himself. It seems an awful lot of trouble to go through, but Thor can't really afford to disregard that possibility. Loki already said he would betray him.

"How did you know to do all this? The cloaks, the path to through Niflheim, all of it?"

"Not all of us spent our youth fighting," Loki says. "You'd be surprised what you could learn if you opened a book."

Thor frowns at the jab but says nothing. Loki is exceptionally cunning. It shouldn't come as a surprise to Thor that he thought of a plan so quickly. Silence falls between them again, and Thor is still restless, still aching to talk.

"Will we never speak of Midgard?" he says.

Loki's head snaps to him and his eyes flash dangerously.

"There is nothing to speak of."

"Loki, what we shared—"

"Meant nothing," Loki says. "It was deception, Thor, no more than that."

His words sting, but Thor knows Loki well enough to know when he is being defensive and trying to underplay his emotions.

"You know that isn't true."

He watches Loki's form tense. His brother looks almost brittle, as if a single touch will break him. Thor wonders if he misses the life they lived on Midgard, if he misses the quiet of it, the easiness, and intimacy.

"What do you want me to say?" Loki stands, circling him, half-crouched still. "Do you want me to admit how weak I was, how I craved you? How utterly human I was? It was all falsehood, Thor."

"So you would rather this? You would rather us tearing one another apart?"

"No," Loki says, and looks as though he's shocked himself by saying it. "But what we had cannot exist."

Thor stands and meets him, reaches out to touch him even though he knows Loki doesn't want it. Thor doesn't care at the moment, because he thinks Loki _needs_ it. His eyes are blown wide, nearly black. Thor wipes at the smudge of dirt on Loki's cheek, and is sure that his brother will strike him. Instead, his head falls slowly until he is resting it on Thor's shoulder, bracing himself with his hands against Thor's armor.

"Brother," Thor says.

Loki grips his breastplate.

"I am tired," he says, in such a way that Thor understands there is a double meaning.

"Loki…"

"Please," Loki says.

Thor lets him go, even though he doesn't want to.

"Okay," he says.

\--

The cloaks are not finished by morning, which Thor had hoped for but did not expect. They break fast with Hafgrímr, and Thor wants to ask him about his progress, but his mind is so preoccupied by Loki that he forgets to. He and Loki had the same experience on Midgard, they were hit by the same magic. The life may have been fake, but the emotions, those were real. Thor knows they were. He still feels them now. If he can feel them, why can't Loki?

Thor frowns while eating his mash, trying desperately to think of another explanation. By evening, he realizes there isn't one. If he feels them, then Loki must as well. He is lying, perhaps to protect himself. They have always loved one another with an intensity that cannot be rivaled, but Thor will admit he had never thought of Loki in terms of being a lover until his title of brother was stripped away. Now it seems so obvious, so easy, that Thor cannot imagine Loki in his life without that aspect of their relationship. It just is, and that is how things have always been between them.

Dinner is eaten in the barn that night, with Hafgrímr working alone, promising the cloaks will be finished by the morn. Thor watches Loki eat, tearing the pig meat with his teeth, gums bared.

One night in July, when they were still on Midgard, when they were still Tor and Loke, they learned each other from the inside out. It was hot in their flat under a midnight sun, and they itched to be naked together. They touched each other in every way that they could, held each other, used their fingers to map out their love, foreheads pressed together.

"I could stay like this," Thor had said, and squeezed his fingers into the meat of Loki's thigh. "I could stay like this forever."

Under him, Loki was glassy-eyed and pink-cheeked, mouth open. He looked at Thor, and something overtook him, something deep in his pupils that Thor saw just before he shut his eyes.

"I wish you would," he'd said.

He had meant it, Thor is sure of that. Thor is unsure of so much between them, but that moment he is certain of. If nothing else, he is sure of that. Loki sets his bowl on the barn floor, only half-finished. He's restless. He's been quiet all day as well, surely aware of the growing tension between them. Thor watches him pull a loose piece of straw from the bed and toss it.

"I could have stayed like that forever," Thor says.

Loki looks up.

"What did you say?"

"You heard what I said." Loki's eyes narrow but Thor sees the recognition in them. "I could have stayed like that. I would have."

Loki is across the barn in a second, seizing Thor by his tunic and pulling him up, snarling and angry. Thor lets him, arms at his side. He doesn't want to fight. He refuses to.

"Do you mean to mock me?" Loki says.

"No."

Thor reaches up and encircles his wrist, and Loki's eyes falter once he understands Thor truly doesn't mean to mock him, but the moment of tenderness falls apart when Loki laughs.

"So what?" he says. "Should your words mean something to me? It doesn't matter now."

He lets Thor go and pulls away, but Thor holds his wrist.

"Doesn't it?" Thor says. "Do you think just because I have remembered, I no longer desire you?"

Loki has him by the throat again a second later, this time with his dagger raised high. Thor can feel him shaking. Should Loki choose to strike, the dagger will go through Thor's eye. The air is very still, even outside. There is not a sound other than their breathing.

"Do you truly doubt it?" Thor says. "After everything?"

"You never," Loki says, unable to finish the sentence. "You _never._ "

"Neither did you."

Loki doesn't move so Thor curls a hand around his neck and kisses him. Loki struggles. He rips himself from Thor's grip, nearly stumbling at the force at which he does so.

"What are you doing?" he says.

"Did you not hear me?"

Thor reaches for him again, catching Loki's arm and pulling him. Loki digs his heels into the floor of the barn but it's no use. He slides into Thor's embrace and is trapped. The dagger is still furnished in his hand, but he seems to have forgotten about it.

"You're mad," Loki says. "I'm your brother. I'm the one who caused this mess for you. I—"

"I think you are trying to convince yourself, rather than me." Thor's words render him silent. "I do not deny any of what you said Loki, but you cannot deny what has happened."

Loki is still silent, but he doesn't move either. He looks shocked by Thor's words. He truly thought Thor didn't love him, at least not in the way he wanted. Thor presses their foreheads together.  

"I love you now as I loved you on Midgard. I always have."

Loki's mouth opens but quickly falls shut again. Something mad and selfish and intimate sparks behind his eyes. He drops the dagger and kisses Thor.

It is different, this time. They are utterly themselves and aware of who they are and what this means. Thor thinks, for a moment, of Hafgrímr, and what would happen if he walked in, but Loki's mouth is warm and Thor could give a damn what happens. He holds Loki's neck in both hands, fingers cupping the base of his skull and catching in the soft hair there. Loki pushes him down onto the bed and follows, covering Thor's body with his own and kissing him now with more force, more purpose.

They're quick about it, only half-undressed, skin hot. Thor takes both their cocks in one hand and strokes, watches the line of Loki's neck as he swallows and his mouth drops open. He has his hands braced on Thor's shoulders and his nails prick deliciously into the skin. Thor sucks his lip between his teeth, mesmerized by the sight of Loki. He wants to be inside of him. He lets go of their cocks and flips them so that Loki is on his back, too impatient to pull his breeches the rest of the way off. Loki's legs tangle in them and he huffs irritably, but does nothing to fix it. Thor pulls his legs to the side and fits himself against Loki's ass, pressing against him with clear intent.

"No," Loki says, panting. "No, we have nothing—"

Thor growls and rolls him onto his stomach, mad with lust, and ruts against him, cock sliding between the cheeks of his ass. He won't hurt Loki, but he is desperate for him in a way he hasn't known before. He is desperate. Loki grips the mattress and ends up tearing it, straw poking out. He looks pained by his own arousal, finally reaching down to stroke his erection. Thor holds his hips tight. If he can't be inside of him, then he wants Loki to feel him everywhere else.

"Brother," he says.

Loki comes hard. It takes them both by surprise, and they shake with the force of it. Loki falls to his elbows after, head bowed down while Thor finishes above him. That doesn't take long at all, especially after Thor realizes that it's what he _said_ that brought Loki over the edge. He rolls off of Loki, and there is a long moment where Loki doesn't move and his hair hides his face. Eventually, he sits upright, breeches still down around his knees.

"We'll have to flip the mattress," he says, oddly calm.

Thor nods faintly.

They clean up silently, flip the mattress and wash the evidence from their clothes using the washbasin. Thor watches Loki adjust his breeches, and wonders what now. What do they do now? He steps behind him, hesitant still even after what has just happened. He had thought, perhaps foolishly, that this would have cleared the air, that things would be different, normal. But they were never normal, and they never can be. They are no longer on Midgard, no longer without memories, without consequence of their actions.

"Loki—"

"What we had on Midgard," Loki says, half-turning to face him. "You know we cannot have that again."

Thor looks at his hands. He knows this.

"So what is to become of us?"

"I don't know," Loki says.

Thor had expected one of Loki's clever replies, the kind that reveals nothing, but Loki is pale and contrite instead, and Thor regrets, for the first time, having their memories back.

\--

Hafgrímr comes to them in the middle of the night, knocking loudly on the barn door. Thor and Loki scramble from their beds and run to open the door. It's pitch black in the barn and Thor stumbles over his own feet, guided only by the light from Hafgrímr's lantern. He's smiling broadly, fingers blackened.

"I thought you'd want to know right away, seeing as you're in such a hurry and all," he says. "The cloaks are finished."

\--

The cloaks are beautiful. The feathers are a deep, earthy brown, soft under Thor's fingertips. Hafgrímr truly has done wonderful work. Loki holds his cloak up, examining it before deeming it to be of good quality. Hafgrímr looks proud of himself, cheeks rosy under the lantern light, eyes tired from work. Thor examines his own cloak: it's long, almost like a cape, and there are sleeves attached which, when Thor pulls on, realizes are actually wings. He folds the cloak over his arm and watches Loki talk lowly to Hafgrímr. The dwarf returns the pouch Loki made from the dragon's stomach, which he hands off to Thor. Thor wonders if Hafgrímr has already used the scales or if he will wait. He hopes, though it's probably unwarranted, that he won't use them for anything ill willed. Thor would never forgive himself if more damage befell the realms at his doing.

"This is fine work," Loki says, fingers running through the feathers of the cloak. "We won't trouble you any longer, Hafgrímr. We take our leave."

Thor is relieved to hear that. Hafgrímr has been hospitable and proven himself trustworthy, but time is not on their side.

Even though it's night and the streets are nearly empty, they still leave Hafgrímr's through the back of the barn for safety's sake. There is no point in risking being caught now. They thank Hafgrímr for his work and his hospitality, and Thor begins to follow Loki into the night.

"Hold up, there, lad." Hafgrímr's rough hand grabs Thor's arm and Thor turns back to him. "I hope you two aren't thinking of doing anything foolish with those cloaks."

"Your craftsmanship is surely unrivaled," Thor says smiling softly. "We would not dream of ruining such fine work."

"Kind words, but not what I meant."

Hafgrímr's gaze falls ahead to Loki, then quickly back to Thor. Thor bends down so that the dwarf may whisper to him.

"Your black-haired friend watches you strangely when he thinks you aren't looking," he says.

Thor blinks. "Strangely?"

Hafgrímr doesn't elaborate, because Loki has noticed that Thor has failed to follow him and turned.

"Is there some reason you stay behind?" he says, voice echoing in the night. "I thought you are anxious to move."

"No, you are right, let us go. Thank you again, Hafgrímr."

Thor stands and waves Hafgrímr off, replaying his words in his head. _Strangely._ He turns back once more, but Hafgrímr has already disappeared back inside the barn.

\--

Loki makes a small ball of light for them to guide their way in the darkness. They move over the hills silently, circling back around to near where they slew the dragon. The more of the plan Loki reveals to him, the more wary Thor becomes. He wishes it were possible for Loki to just move them onto Yggdrasil, but as Loki explained to him earlier, he can't move them somewhere that is technically everywhere. They'll have to move into Niflheim mid-flight to avoid plunging into the misty sea of the dead, and stay in flight until they reach Yggdrasil.

"Getting through Niflheim is not going to be as simple as moving between realms," Loki says. "It is a realm for the dead, and the living are not idly welcomed."

"You mean they will attack us."

"Attack us," Loki says, and laughs. "No, they will kill us."

He wraps the cloak around himself. "And if they kill us, dear brother, we will not go to Valhalla or Hel, we will stay right there for eternity."

Thor puts on his own cloak. The feathers are cool, and the cloak is not nearly as heavy as Thor imagined it would be—it's almost weightless.

"Well then," he says. "We won't let them kill us."

They are at the top of a larger hill, one that lets them see out into the landscape, to the horizon where one of the suns is beginning to rise. Thor extends his arms and flaps his wings experimentally. Dirt rises from the ground as he does so, swirling around his feet. He hopes flying with wings is as easy as with Mjölnir. Next to him, Loki's profile is sharp and grave, and Thor thinks of Hafgrímr's words again. He still isn't sure what to make of them.

"Nervous?" he says.

Loki's lips curl upward. "Have I some reason to be?"

"Let us hope not," Thor says.

Loki grabs hold of the feathers of Thor's cloak and Thor is amazed at how much has changed between them, and at the same, so little. He remembers what Loki said to him in the barn, that they could not have this again, and then stares out into the horizon.

"I hope you are ready," Loki says.

Thor only nods. They each take a step back and begin running. Once they reach the edge of the hill, they both jump, and Thor flaps his wings and they're flying—actually flying. Thor only has a second to marvel at the feat before Loki whispers his spell. Then he feels the world spin.

\--

His first thought is that it's freezing—cold as Jötunheim, perhaps even colder. His next is that it's hard to see. A mist covers the whole realm, thick enough that Thor's wings are cutting through it as he flaps them. The entire place has an odd feeling to it, one that makes Thor's spine crawl. It's a very strange feeling, and Thor can't seem to shake it off. He doesn't like it here, and Loki is so quiet next to him. He turns to him, and that is when Loki's eyes fall closed, and he begins to drop from the sky.

"Loki!"

Thor dives down after him, catching him around the waist with one arm and using the other to maintain flight. They both fall dangerously low, Thor unable to support both their weight on one wing, and Loki appears to have lost consciousness. He is limp in Thor's arms, and Thor cannot tell if he's breathing or not.

"Brother," he says. "Brother, wake up, please."

He looks down and his breath catches in his throat. There is a sea beneath them, but isn't filled with water—the dead float in it, almost transparent, bodies outlined in a sickly green. They are all watching them, arms reaching upward. Thor knows that if they manage to grab hold of them, they will pull them down and keep them there. He flaps his wing harder, struggling to take them higher. The sea runs as far as Thor can see, and he thinks at first it is the only thing in Niflheim, but then Thor notices the jagged, rocky cliffs up ahead. They appear safe enough for them to land on for a time, at least until Loki wakes up, if at all. He must have used too much magic to bring them here. Thor feels foolish for not expecting this.

He is still struggling to keep them flying, aware that they slowly falling lower. The closer they drift to the sea, the colder the air becomes. Thor is straining now. He sees the dead beneath them, clamoring against one another with hollow eyes and skinny arms. They can sense their life, and they want to take it from them. Nothing living should exist in this realm, nor can it for long. Thor is starting to think they are going to fall, and everything will end here, in Niflheim.

Something grabs his leg, and Thor startles, thinking it to be one of the dead, but it's Loki. He looks half-dead himself, but he's awake now and holding onto Thor's legs.

"Fly," he says, voice hoarse.

Thor lets go of Loki's waist and flaps with both wings. Loki holds his legs and the weight is still pulling them down, but Thor can at least fly now, and he does, taking them as high as he can until they reach the black cliffs. The surface is flat and shiny, and Thor drops down onto it, collapsing to his hands and knees and taking huge, gasping breaths.

Loki is still beside him, and Thor can see him breathing shallowly. Once he's gotten his breath back, he puts a hand over Loki's chest, feeling for his heartbeat. It's shallow, but getting stronger.

"What happened?"

Loki stares up at him crossly. "Do you have any idea how much energy it takes to move two people into a realm of the dead?"

"You could have warned me," Thor says.

"If I had known, I would have."

Loki rolls to his side away from Thor and sits upright, scanning over the realm. He hadn't known how much effort on his part it would take to get them here, but he risked harm to himself to do so. Thor tells himself that this says something for Loki's sincerity in this. It cannot be simply some ruse if he is risking so much for it. Or maybe Thor is trying too hard to trust him.

"It smells foul," Loki says, nose wrinkling.

Thor nods. "Aye. It makes sense."

He's afraid that Loki is going to faint again and wants to urge him to lie back down, but he knows that the longer they stay here, the more danger they are in. He stands to survey more of the realm alongside Loki. Other than a few cliffs like the one they are on, there isn't much else. The sea of the dead is the only thing on the ground, and there is no sun. The thick mist is everywhere, and just above it are dark, foreboding clouds. Thor's eyes sting.

"Where is this opening?"

"I do not know," Loki says.

Thor's head snaps to him. "You do not know?"

"Forgive me," Loki says tightly. "I have never traveled here before, have I?"

Thor wants to throttle him for not sharing that information earlier, but he knows that now is no time to argue. They need to begin moving again as quickly as possible. Thor looks behind them, squinting against the heavy mist. He isn't sure what he should be looking for. The opening to Yggdrasil could be in one of the cliffs, or in the very sky itself. Thor only hopes that it's somewhere they can reach, and they haven't come here for nothing. He isn't sure Loki can get them out without killing himself. Up ahead, Thor sees something odd. He steps to the edge of the cliff and tries to see clearer through the mist. There is a break in the mist just above a cliff, almost like it's being sucked through an opening in the sky. Thor nods to Loki.

"Over there," he says. "That opening. That must be it."

Loki comes to stand next to him and follows Thor's finger as he points. It could, in fact, be nothing, but it's the only anomaly they've seen in the realm so far, and certainly their best bet. Thor can hear Loki's ragged breathing beside him.

"Are you all right to move?" he says.

"Even if I wasn't, I don't have a choice." Loki pulls his cloak tighter around himself. "Staying here is not an option."

Thor can't really argue with him. Something about this realm is suffocating, almost like Thor can feel his vitality being drained. They take off from the cliff and begin flying toward the break in the mist. Thor lets Loki fly ahead of him somewhat so that he can keep an eye on him. If he loses consciousness again, Thor will catch him. If they fall, then they'll fall together. The break in the mist doesn't seem that far, but the longer they fly, the farther away it appears to get. Thor blinks heavily, thinking that he's mistaken, but nothing changes. The opening isn't getting any closer.

"Loki," he starts, but isn't sure how to articulate what he's seeing.

"I know," Loki says. "I see it, too."

"Is this some kind of magic?"

Loki pauses long enough that Thor begins to worry.

"It must be an illusion," Loki says, but doesn't sound confident. "Keep flying."

"What if it's not? What if we never reach it?"

"What if I tear your wings off?" Loki hisses. "We keep flying."

Thor doesn't understand how they're supposed to reach this opening if can't tell where it is, but he obeys anyway. It feels like they fly for hours. Exhaustion creeps into Thor's limbs and he worries that it's worse for Loki, but his brother keeps flying. All Thor wants is to rest, but they can't. After a while, Loki starts to droop, but before Thor can open his mouth, he rights himself again. Thor looks down again at the sea of the dead and sees they are still being watched. Thousands upon thousands of years of disgraced warriors are looking upon them, hoping for them to fall. He's afraid they will. Thor doesn't know how long he watches them, but when he looks up again, he's about to collide face first into the cliff side. He braces himself with his hands, gaining purchases on the jagged rocks. For a moment, he thinks it's an illusion, but the cliff is real. They've reached it.

"What…"

"I told you," Loki says.

He's holding onto the cliff as well. Thor doesn't understand how they've made it, but they have.

"It was miles away…"

"It was an illusion," Loki says. "You can't trust anything down here."

Thor sniffs. "But you weren't sure."

"Nonsense," Loki says. "I was—"

He starts to slide down, panic gripping his features. Before Thor can ask what's wrong, one of the dead jumps onto Loki's backside and starts trying to drag him down. Thor had no idea they could _climb._ He pushes off the cliff and takes flight again, reaching for his blade to cut the dead warrior, but he realizes quickly that it won't do much good. The green tint that falls off of it is literally eating away at Loki's cloak, acting like some kind of acerbic liquid. Killing it, Thor understands now. Everything the dead touches here, dies.

Loki grunts and spins, back hitting the cliff and tossing the dead warrior into the rock. It hisses, a loud piercing shriek, and loses its grip. Loki pushes it away with magic, and the dead warrior goes tumbling back into the sea, but Thor sees now that more are starting to climb up the cliff. They don't want them to leave. Loki grips the cliff tightly and groans, steam rising from his back.

"Go, you fool," he says, face tight with pain. "We have to go!"

Thor lands on the top of the cliff and extends a hand, anxiously watching as Loki climbs the rest of the way. The dead climb slowly, but Loki is clearly injured, and they're starting to gain on him. When Loki gets close enough, Thor grabs his hand and pulls him up. Loki stumbles into him and Thor feels how cold he is, yet somehow his backside is burning. He looks up at where the mist has broken. There is nothing but darkness, no way to know if they are in the right spot, but as Thor looks down again, he sees how close the dead are to them, and more keep coming. Loki's cloak is torn and unusable now, and they've no way to fight them off. They have no choice. Loki holds Thor's waist and Thor takes off, flies upwards into the darkness.

They're falling all at once, as if the sky and ground have switched places. They tumble, and Thor rolls to avoid hitting his head and to protect Loki. He hits something hard with his back and falls still. It is very silent, and he wonders if they are still in Niflheim, but the air is different now—less stifling, less ominous. Thor can breathe much easier, though he is still not sure where they are. They both stand, and Thor sees blue around them, a shade of it he has never before seen his life. It's beautiful. Loki is staring up with his mouth open, the remnants of his cloak falling off around him and floating away into the vast blue until they are no longer visible. When Thor looks up, he can see what Loki is staring at—a vast trunk that stretches up farther than they can see, and is almost just as wide.

Thor presses his hand against the trunk and feels it breathe, realizes where they are. They've made it. They're on Yggdrasil.


End file.
